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Photo by Mollis, Galveston, Texas. 

Fanny RuthvEn Page:t, Houston, Te:xas. 



How I Know that the 
Dead Are AUve 







PUBLISHED 1917 

BY 

PLENTY PUBLISHING COMPANY 

33d and Western Avenue 

WASHINGTON. D. C. 






Copyright, 1917 by E. Matthews Dawson 
Washington, D. C. 



y 

MAR -6 1917 

©CI.A455795 



c/?/ 



CONTENTS. 

Chapter 

I Lifting the Veil. 
II The Visible and Invisible. 

III ''Never Less Alone Than When 

Alone.'' 

IV Shadows of Night. 

V Forging Links in the Chain. 
VI With the Coming of the Dawn. 
VII A Day With the Invisibles at Sea. 
VIII A Chill-Laden Promise. 
IX As THE Fatal Night Comes and Goes. 
X Weaving Tangled Threads of Mys- 
tery. 
XI The ''Choir Invisible.'' 
XII Defining Soul and Body. 
XIII Visions. Love Spiritualized By Death. 
XIV Back Across the Dark Span. 
XV Writing. 

XVI Soul and Body In Process of Separa- 
tion. 
XVII Gethsemane. 
XVIII Passing Into the Beyond. 
XIX Over the Borderland. 
XX The Red Darkens. 
XXI The "Power House" of Existence. 
XXII Panorama of Life As Lived On Earth. 

XXIII Mundane Readjustment. 

XXIV Mundane and Supermundane Rela- 

tionship. 
XXV The Link of Infinitude. 
XXVI Atoms of Life Unifying With the 

Source of Life. 
XXVII A Soul Relinking With Earth. 
XXVIII As THE Todays Became Yesterdays. 



/ 



6i 



FOREWORD. 

**Fools deride — philosophers investigate.'^ 

In writing this book I am yielding to a sense of 
duty, that impels me to offer to the thinking and 
reading public, a series of incidents, embracing psy- 
chological experiences, that came to me as unsought 
and unasked as I am giving them to those who care 
to avail themselves of the reading thereof; and no 
matter how adversely their lack of sequence may im- 
press the reader, they impressed the writer similarly 
when they intruded themselves upon her discrimi- 
nating mentality. 

When evidence of this mysterious force first mani- 
fested itself, May 21st, 191 1, I was an avowed non- 
believer in religion of any kind, with little knowledge 
and less toleration of all things supernatural. Natu- 
rally, deep impressions resulted and my viewpoint 
veered around in harmony with demonstrated facts, 
but I have no ^'Isms" to inflict on those who read. 
I am simply recording a chain of incidents just as 
they came to me in all their mystery-laden weirdness, 
without intent of interfering with the desire, belief 
or faith of any one, as I have even less respect for 
the person who changes his opinions with every op- 
portunity than I have for the pent-up, fossilized mind 
that admits its limitations by never changing. My 
hope is that the reader will maintain an open mind 
throughout the reading and then investigate the sub- 
ject thoroughly for himself, as knowledge is never 
really knowledge unless we know for ourselves, to 
which this subject lends itself admirably, for where 
it is concerned one either knows or does not know. 



From the inception of these phenomena to the 
writing of this book I have respected a constraint not 
to read books or writings on the subject; therefore, 
it is needless for me to say that I am not affiliated 
with, nor am I writing under, the auspices of any 
person, sect, cult or society. 

The conscious continuity of life after death has al- 
ways been attested by the universal instinct and be- 
lieved by nearly every one, as it is the foundation of 
all religions. Unfortunately, it has been so shrouded 
in mystery and uncertainty that its solution has en- 
gaged the prophets, sages and philosophers since be- 
fore the Father of Wisdom said ''There is nothing 
new under the sun" to this, our very materialistic 
present; during which time there has been such a 
persistence of evidence that we are compelled to ad- 
mit that there is something, somewhere, not dreamt 
of in our materialistic philosophy. 



CHAPTER I 

LIFTING THE VEIL. 

'^There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Hora- 
tio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy/' 

"Are you afraid?" came distinctly above the "rattle 
of the rail" causing me to look up in quick appre- 
hension from the newspaper I was reading and move 
my eyes inquiringly about the coach. The equanimity 
of the other passengers so surprised and puzzled 
me, that, somewhat embarrassed at having started up 
and stared around without any apparent reason, I 
lowered my eyes and settled down in the most pro- 
found perplexity, asking myself what it could mean. 
Unquestionably I had heard it, as I remembered not 
only the words but the very tone in which they had 
been uttered, despite all of which there was no evi- 
dence of any one having spoken nor did any one ap- 
pear to have heard. The voice was as distinctly hu- 
man as any I had ever heard but no person in the 
coach evidenced the slightest interest in what had 
been said. I was alone in the seat but the voice 
seemed loud and distinct enough to have been heard 
by those in the adjacent ones — why had they not 
heard? A sense of the mysterious began creeping 
upon me under which I became quite perturbed and 
more determined upon a satisfactory solution of what 
then seemed the most unaccountable thing conceiv- 
able. 

After revolving the matter in my mind for a few 
minutes, still deeply perplexed, I again turned in 
my seat, which was near the front and faced the 



8 How I Know That 

rear, manifesting as little concern in so doing as was 
possible under a condition so at variance with equi- 
librium of mind and manner, and scrutinized the face 
of every one in the coach all of whom were con- 
cerned, apparently, only with their own thoughts or 
conversations. That the sentence had not emanated 
from any of the passengers was as conclusive as the 
conviction that they not heard. I was none the less 
positive that I had heard. 

Then I began to analyze it — to put the search light 
of reason on it — by what process could I have heard 
to the exclusion of others confined equally within the 
sound area? I could feel my positiveness neutralizing 
— my mind beginning to fluctuate between doubt and 
assurance. One minute I was positive I had heard it 
— the next admitting the impossibility of it. When 
confirmation in the negative was needed the serenity 
of the passengers gave it, as I was sufficiently a stu- 
dent of humanity to know that if that number of per- 
sons had heard a sentence of such import with no ex- 
planation as to the source of it, all would not possess 
the self control requisite for such outward calm. But 
when I looked away out of the window on the calm 
face of nature there was something that renewed as- 
surance — something that seemed to fasten the reality 
of it on my soul. It was a problem I could neither 
shake off nor solve. 

Torn by the conflict of it I became restless, ill at 
ease and so generally uncomfortable that I removed 
my hat and gloves (which I often do when traveling) 
and after putting them in the rack, settled down with 
the determination of dismissing the entire matter, 
trying to convince myself that I was coping with a 
delusion — lending myself to the most unreasonable 
fancies. All of which was useless — it would not down 



The Dead Are Alive 9 

— it haunted me with disconcerting persistency — 
in the midst of my denials of its existence I was con- 
scious of wondering if it was not a warning of a train 
wreck and of remembering that I had read of such 
things. 

Had I been of an imaginative temperament or ad- 
dicted to belief in the supernatural, occult or kindred 
subjects, I would doubtless have been spared much 
of the perplexing conjectures which involved me but 
I had always prided myself on my ^'strong minded- 
ness," so much so that even the mysteries of religion 
did not appeal to nor impress me. At that time I was 
an avowed Atheist with only patronizing pity for 
those less free in thought. Science, so called, domi- 
nated me, shaping my thoughts and actions in all 
things. That which I could not weigh, measure, see 
nor feel did not exist for me. I was skeptical of all 
things that could not be measured by the yard-stick 
of science and here I was, confronted with something 
that brought the realization that the aforesaid yard- 
stick was lamentably inadequate to the demand made 
upon it. No, no, this was an impossible conclusion — 
I could not accept it and tried earnestly to formulate 
some scientific explanation for the phenomenon but 
this being impossible, I determined to dismiss it — let 
it go unsolved in so far as I was concerned. How 
foolish it seemed that I had permitted myself to in- 
dulge in such a mental upheaval all because of some 
unaccountable freak of fancy — a figment of the im- 
agination. 

Forcibly dismissing the subject I gathered up the 
bulky Sunday paper and resumed reading with a 
forced interest, accompanying which was a minor 
chord of pride, of being well pleased with myself 
that my allegiance to so-called science had withstood 



lo How I Know That 

such an acid test and feeling that never again would 
I give a moment's consideration to anything so ab- 
surd as a voice coming out of space and projecting 
words as it came. I could have laughed at the in- 
congruity of it. 

And then — suddenly a cold touch was upon my 
hand and looking I started violently — stared at a 
detached, shadowy hand, hovering over mine and 
long spectral fingers closing gently over it, taking my 
hand within their grasp. My first impulse was to 
draw it hastily away but something seemed to hold 
it where it was, as the paper slipped from my nerve- 
less fingers, rattling noisily as it fell, partly on the 
floor and partly in my lap. Awe held every muscle 
rigid and an unearthly coldness was upon me. I 
could feel the blood leaving my face and the strength 
oozing out of my body as I sat petrified, with eyes 
fixed upon the weird hand as it took mine into its 
cold clasp, pressed it gently, as in the act of shaking 
hands, and vanished. My hand, numb and weak be- 
yond my ability to control, fell unrestrained into my 
lap, where it lay listlessly, palm up, on the crumpled 
paper, my eyes still fastened upon it, awaiting yet 
shrinking from further developments. Nothing 
eventuated. 

Slowly I relaxed, thawed out, as it were, and began 
to wonder if any of the other passengers had seen the 
hand but did not dare to look around lest my face 
betray my emotion, realizing that such a hurricane 
within must have its storm signals without. With 
this realization I began suppressing any outward 
evidence of emotion and gathering up the paper set- 
tled myself back in a more or less studied attitude of 
composure, pretending to read, while I thought it 
out — trying to square sanity with such a happening. 



The Dead Are Alive 1 1 

Suddenly I was conscious of the most startling thing 
imaginable — I was not alone in the seat! An intan- 
gible presence, indefinable yet existent was beside 
me, so near that I could have reached out my hand 
and have touched it (be assured that I didn't). A 
heavy coldness oppressed me, little breaths of air 
fanned my face, hands and feet, sending cold waves 
of apprehension into every nerve, as I perceived the 
presence moving, space by space, nearer to me, almost 
overcoming me with awe. 

It was touching me — soft touches came upon my 
hand, at first not heavier than the falling of a feather 
but gradually increasing to perceptible indentations, 
which I could feel and see, in so far as the indenta- 
tions were concerned, but could not see the cause that 
produced them. When the indentations on the hand 
ceased, I could see shadowy fingers, so transparent 
as to be scarcely perceptible, more of a suggestion 
than a reality, moving up my arm, touching lightly 
as they went. A moment later I felt them distinctly 
•on my face, first on the forehead, then, in a patting^ 
caressing way, on the cheeks. At every point of con- 
tact a cold impression remained, despite the fact that 
the spectral fingers had become humanly warm, 
which outweighed in '^creepiness" the touch of the 
cold. 

Distinctly came the impression as of an open hand 
passing over my hair, as though smoothing it back in 
a caressing way (producing anything but a caressing 
effect). My whole being seemed slipping into un- 
consciousness, as I struggled against the perturbing 
mystery, trying to keep ever uppermost in my mind 
that I was not alone but one of many passengers and 
must therefore regulate my actions accordingly, 
maintaining outward calm regardless of what was 



12 How I Know That 

raging within, which seemed the most trying test 
ever put upon my self control, especially so when 
that great, weird, awe-inspiring presence came nearer 
and nearer, until I could feel its body pressing heavi- 
ly against mine as it stood beside me. As I waited 
in agonized suspense two hands, instead of one, were 
caressing my hair, then two cold palms were taking 
my face between themselves — after a moment there 
was a gentle lifting pressure and I knew my head 
was being thrown back — my face lifted. I looked 
up and caught the faintest glimpse of dark, luminous, 
detached eyes looking down into mine — the eyes 
were all I saw — the outline of the face shading into 
nothingness. 

I could feel the pressure withdraw and lowered 
my eyes quickly, turning my face away toward the 
window, fearing it mirrored my agitation of mind, 
which might subject me to the criticism to any who 
might be observing. Thus I sat rigidly — almost in- 
capable of movement, held apparently by a power 
stronger than my ability to move or to think coherent- 
ly; therefore, for the time being, I did neither, while 
ardently desiring to do both. Meantime that un- 
earthly being in all of its weird persistence, pressed 
its touches, its caresses upon me until awe merged 
into resignation and resignation into indifference — a 
feeling that I must endure that which I was power- 
less to control. 

With the coming of this resignation the shadowy 
fingers ceased their manipulations, the weird pres- 
ence sat down beside me. I knew it was there — could 
have put my hand upon it without looking around, 
but instead with my hand resting on the window sill 
I continued to look straight out over the green fields 
and the grazing cattle, not daring to think or trying 



The Dead Are Alive 13 

to explain it to myself — even then I realized it was 
the one thing of all things I preferred not accepting 
— the demonstrated existence of the so-called super- 
natural. 

This most undesirable mental constraint was inter- 
rupted by a voice, softly calling my name — ''Fanny." 
Instinctively I turned toward the presence beside me 
in a listening attitude without even a suggestion of 
fear or uncertainty. The mystery of the voice was 
solved. 

For some seconds I waited in listening attitude but 
as nothing further was said, I relaxed and would have 
resumed my position, looking out the window, but 
was arrested by a voice in pleasant challenge : 

''You were not afraid, were you?" 

"No; but woefully mystified," I answered mental- 
ly, that is thought it, feeling that if this apparition, 
creature, being, ghost or goblin, or whatever it was, 
could not hear without my attracting the attention 
of the passengers by speaking aloud to that which 
was to them not only unseen but unrecognizable in 
any way, conversation would either have to be dis- 
pensed with entirely or conducted on a one-sided basis, 
as it was very evident that I alone heard the voice or 
was conscious of the presence. However, to thorough- 
ly satisfy myself on this point I looked the passengers 
over carefully again confirming my conclusion, 
which, while it increased the mystery, was a mental 
relief, as I felt that I could better cope with it alone 
than to attract attention to that which I could not 
any more explain to myself than I could to any one 
else. 

I wondered somewhat resentfully why I had been 
left to puzzle and conjecture over the source of the 
voice, when evidently the author of it was there all 



14 How I Know That 

the time and could have spared me the mental dis- 
turbance to which I had been subjected. My thoughts 
were answered as though I had spoken. 

''It was better so." 

My grievance vanished at the sound of the voice, 
so human, clear and distinct that the strangeness 
grew upon me that I was the only one who could hear 
it — it seemed so unreasonable. Again my thought 
was answered: 

"When you understand it will no longer seem 
strange." 

"It is strange enough now," I mentally ejaculated, 
as I settled back resigned to anything that might 
eventuate, which was evidently an ideal condition for 
the furtherance of this mode of conversation, as the 
voice began instantly: 

"He is waiting for you." This not only surprised 
but interested me. I knew the reference was made to 
my fiance who was waiting at the Grand Central De- 
pot in Houston to meet me upon my arrival in that 
city where I was enroute to spend the day at his in- 
vitation. My thoughts went so absorbingly to the 
object in question that I ignored the presence until a 
touch on the arm came as a reminder that I had with- 
drawn my attention while it was yet required. I re- 
sumed the listening attitude and the voice continued 
as though uninterrupted : 

"He is not coming home for some time." While 
I did not know just when he would return I knew it 
was not unlikely that he would be detained many 
days from home, as he was of those who "sat at cards" 
in the political game, the issue of which, at that time, 
was of state-wide importance, requiring his presence 
in the various sections of the state and leaving little 
time for aught else. 



The Dead Are Alive 15 

Here I beg pardon for introducing that which is 
seemingly irrelevant to the subject but as the seen and 
the unseen are so intimately interwoven it is almost 
impossible to treat of one without including the 
other, especially so, when one is retailing one's per- 
sonal experiences, where everything points to the mun- 
dane and supermundane in their relation to each 
other as "parts of one stupendous whole," by the very 
nature of which there are other personalities yet to 
be incorporated for which I apologize in advance. 

Nothing would please me more than the elimina- 
tion of the personal pronoun I in this writing, but the 
sense of duty that impels me to write requires even 
more — that my soul be bared to those who read and 
as it is a very sensitive soul I would ask my readers 
to be, at least, charitable with it, as it shrinks at every 
page in retailing that which should doubtless remain 
sacred only to itself, but I cannot tear out of my con- 
sciousness the conviction that there are those who see 
the light dimly and will thank me for daring to give 
utterance to that which most of us would lock up 
within the secret recesses of our hearts with fear and 
trembling lest some one find it out and criticise. 

My spectral visitor, evidently knowing the subject 
most interesting to me, went on speaking of my hus- 
band-to-be and his political affairs, as one who knows, 
disclosing many things of vital importance affecting 
his interests, to which it is needless to say, I listened 
most absorbingly, ever marveling at the wonder of it. 
Thus I listened uninterruptedly until I perceived 
the train slowing down and looked out the win- 
dow into the blue-gray eyes of my fiance and 
bowed in recognition as he did in return. The 
train having stopped, I arose and as the pres- 
ence was between me and the aisle, hesitated as in- 



i6 How I Know That 

stinctively as though it were a human being, but 
as this sense of obstruction passed almost instantly, 
I filed out and down the aisle along with the other 
passengers, hoping that I bore no visible evidence of 
having undergone one of the most mysterious ex- 
periences that could possibly incorporate itself into 
an otherwise ordinary railroad journey of less than 
two hours. 



The Dead Are Alive ij 

CHAPTER II 
THE VISIBLE AND INVISIBLE. 

After exchanging greetings with my fiance and his 
secretary I accompanied them to the Brazos Hotel, 
across from the depot. In a few minutes we had 
turned one of the parlors into an impromptu business 
office where he read the telegrams, letters, etc., I had 
brought with me from his Galveston office. 

While he dictated answers to his secretary, a soft 
voice came apologetically: 

^^Do I intrude?" 

^'No," I made answer, as I was in no way engaged 
except as an audience to a dictating party in which 
I had no part, and felt that I had just as well listen to 
this mystery-laden voice as to sit there thinking of 
nothing else — how could I think of anything else with 
the mystery of it so fresh in my mind? 

The voice went on speaking in the most business- 
like manner making me wonder at the knowledge it 
displayed as to the contents of the letters and before 
the answer was dictated anticipated accurately what 
it was to be, adding a preview as to the final outcome 
of the correspondence. 

I was glad when it was all over and we adjourned 
to the dining room for lunch, feeling relief to be re- 
moved from its incessant talking and prognostica- 
tions. But fancy my surprise when I perceived the 
invisible presence occupying the one vacant chair at 
the table! In an effort to shut out cognizance of its 
existence, I launched into a spirited political argu- 
ment in which all three became so interested that I 
did forget the presence until while laughing at a 



1 8 How I Know That 

witticism I was startled by soft rippling laughter, 
joining in our mirth, so human that it seemed incon- 
ceivable for it to have emanated from a presence not 
of earth. Something like a shiver ran through me as 
I looked at the place where I knew the presence was 
— all I saw was the faintest glimpse of shadowy fin- 
gers hovering over the white cloth — a ghost a member 
of a luncheon party! It was with something of an 
efifort I again took up the thread of the suddenly sus- 
pended argument, simulating an interest I was far 
from feeling, as I could not get away from the trav- 
esty of a "dead" person, sitting as though dining with 
the '^living," for such seemed to me the only solu- 
tion of the mystery. 

In the afternoon we went to the theatre. The per- 
formance consumed more time than we had antici- 
pated, and on coming out found we had only a few 
minutes in which to reach the depot in time for the 
train. As we hurried along the voice came distinctly, 
"Don't worry — don't worry — you will get there in 
time." I just did. I had scarcely settled myself in 
the seat when the train moved out. 

Tired? I do not think I was ever quite so tired in 
my life, mentally and physically. My mind was sur- 
feited with strange food for conjecture — enough to 
last a lifetime; and yet there beside me, clothed in all 
its alluring weirdness was that mysterious being from 
somewhere beyond the mundane — a being from the 
impenetrable shadows far out beyond the explora- 
tions of man — waiting to add to the burden already 
laid upon my consciousness. I resented it, holding 
myself aloof from even the admission that it was 
there — I wanted to rest — to get away from it until 
understanding could cope with it. The strain of 



The Dead Are Alive 19 

shutting it out was nerve-racking, and finally I gave 
up, relaxed and listened. 

"I am here," came with gentle promptness. 

I sighed aloud and mentally cried out: 

''What is the meaning of it — what will be the out- 
come of it — is it madness?" 

A pained voice smote my consciousness : 

"If you command it I will withdraw myself from 
your consciousness and never enter it again." 

''Oh, no; no;" I cried, adding apologetically, "I 
am tired — very tired — let me rest and then you can 
explain everything and I will be no longer mystified." 

"Rest be thine — when you call FU be waiting." 

With a sense of relief I lay back on the seat with 
closed eyes and rest came with a sensation of being 
lifted out of or above the weariness by a process new 
to me. By thus relaxing I had fallen into harmonious 
psychological vibrations that rested by a mental 
rather than physical process and while still marveling 
at the pleasant effectiveness of it, I realized I was no 
longer weary but in perfect harmony with life and 
all its conditions. There was a new joy — a new light 
burning somewhere within me, flooding my soul with 
a radiance that was as beautiful as it was inexplic- 
able. I seemed to have touched something I had 
never touched before; a new gate had opened and I 
had entered in. 

With this new joyousness singing in my soul, I 
listened (my latest accomplishment). Such a simple 
little act when once acquired — this obscuring the 
physical and opening the consciousness to the spirit- 
ual! In the cadence of music came the voice: 

"Blessed be the rest that giveth thy soul into com- 
munion above the earth." 

"Who are you?" I questioned. 



20 How I Know That 

''That also you will know." 

While this was anything but a satisfactory answer 
there was something that pressed against further 
questioning and I waited for the voice to take the 
initiative in the conversation, which it did by asking: 

''Shall I tell you some things that will convince you 
that I am thoroughly acquainted with your life?" 

"I shall be pleased to be convinced," I made as- 
surance. 

"So you shall be," came the voice solemnly. 

The voice, in a retrospective tone, went back, far 
back, invading childhood, to the very first records of 
memory's tablet and came on down, incident by inci- 
dent, chapter by chapter, to the very present, giving 
dates, names and figures, speaking frankly of personal 
matters, giving voice to that which had never been 
spoken — that which my inner consciousness retained 
and held sacred. 

It is impossible to conceive of the effect such a rev- 
elation can have on one. It produced a veritable 
whirl of conflicting emotions but the candid inoffen- 
siveness of the voice smoothed away every emotion 
except wonder. And truly it was wonderful. 

When the resume had ended there was a pause in 
which I felt awkward and ill at ease — the voice was 
hushed and I was so astounded by what I had heard 
that there seemed nothing to say — it had all been 
said. Suddenly a thought came and floated into 
speech : 

"Could you hew so close to the line as to the 
future?" 

"Yes; shall I proceed?" 

As I was opening my consciousness to say "yes," 
an icy wave struck me dumb; a cold shivering sen- 
sation engulfed me; apprehension held me like a vice 



The Dead Are Alive 21 

as I struggled to free myself that I might answer 
^*no." In the midst of which the pressure suddenly 
lifted and I cried beseechingly (mentally) : 

''Oh, don't — please don't." 

Quite in contrast to my agitated appeal the voice 
replied in a soft, dreamy way: 

"It is better so." 

Unaccountably depressed I turned my face to the 
window, where the cool breeze fanned it, as I looked 
out at the moon and the first stars of the evening and 
I remember thinking, with a sense of gratitude that 
they, at least, were unchanged, for somehow it seemed 
to me that everything — life itself — had changed with- 
in the last few hours. Then I was asking myself : 
why did I shrink from the knowledge of what the 
future had to give; why these shivers of foreboding 
in every nerve? A voice chimed cheerily into the 
depression, which vanished as the dew before the sun : 

" 'Laugh and the world laughs with you' — you 
know the rest — this applies equally to the spirit 
world." 

"Spirit world," I echoed, half wonderingly. "It 
must be a spirit," I mused almost forgetful of the 
presence, until it interrupted: 

"Now I want you to listen attentively." 

"At your service," I hastened to assure, as I 
changed the aural gear from the physical into the 
spiritual. 

The voice began, so human in its every accent that 
still I marveled at it. From the ordinary tone it be- 
gan alternating high, low; harsh, gentle; soft, loud; 
and while I wondered at such a proceeding, it quoted 
softly in a far away, dreamy voice : 



22 How I Know That 

''How pure in heart and sound in head, 
With what affections bold, 
Should be the man whose thoughts would hold 
An hour's communion with the dead." 

"The dead," I mused and fell under the spell of its 
awesomeness, from which I was awakened abruptly 
by the voice screaming into my consciousness : 

''Who wrote that?" 

"I don't know," I cried, "but for mercy's sake don't 
deafen me with your vocal gymnastics — it hurts." 

"Wonderful — wonderful," purred the voice, "How 
sensitive your hearing is — and you really could dis- 
criminate as to the tones?" 

"Every variation," I replied. 

"Why did you not say so before?" 

"I thought you knew." 

"I was sounding your sensitiveness to ascertain to 
what extent it could be relied on." 

"I could hear your voice, in its every intonation, 
as well as any human voice." 

"Marvelous — marvelous." 

My companion was evidently delighted, which fact 
pleased me and we entered into conversation as un- 
reservedly as any two earth beings. 

To avoid any misconception as to the modus oper- 
andi of such conversation it may be well to explain 
that my questions and answers wer^e given at all times 
mentally and under no circumstance did I ever speak 
aloud, while the voice speaking to me had the same 
sound and tone as a person speaking in ordinary con- 
versation. Hereafter when I say "I said," etc., un- 
derstand that I simply think and it is heard just as 
though I had spoken, as thought is the language of 
souls. Had it been otherwise I would not be writing 



The Dead Are Alive 23 

this as I would have foregone the privilege of such 
communion rather than make myself v^orse than 
ridiculous by speaking aloud to that which to the 
material senses has no existence; it would bear the 
semblance of madness. 

This process of hearing is like, yet wondrously un- 
like, its physical application. In automobile parlance 
it might be described as ^'changing gears," which is 
accomplished by reversing the connecting link which 
holds automatic connection between the physical and 
the inner consciousness, and which by a mental pro- 
cess can be thrown out of automatic harmony with 
the physical as effectively as the physical, under ordi- 
nary conditions, shuts out the spiritual. By this re- 
versal the spiritual hearing, which is from within, 
transmits itself to the physical sense instead of vice 
versa — to the receiving senses the sound of the voice 
is the same. When once the right connection is un- 
derstood and established this mode of hearing is as 
easy and spontaneous as the physical — it is all a mat- 
ter of proper connection with the right vibrations. 

To illustrate : the paraphernalia of a wireless station 
would remain forever without receiving a message 
if not properly connected, but put it in harmony with 
like vibrations and messages result. We are all, more 
or less, unconnected paraphernalia. The same prin- 
ciple applies to the telegraph, telephone, electric 
lights, gas and other things that come under our daily 
observation. Everything depends on proper con- 
nection. 

The spiritual hearing, which is a transmission of 
voice through the soul consciousness to the physical 
sense requires as much direction in the accomplish- 
ment thereof as the physical, contrary to the general- 
ly accepted theory that total relaxation or mental 



24 How I Know That 

blankness is the ideal condition — it is a listening 
from within instead of without. 

Who has not, in supposed fancy, heard some one 
call his or her name, and, listening, hears nothing? 
However, at the instant of the hearing spiritual con- 
nection existed but the physical act of listening throws 
the connection back into the physical. 

Conscious harmony or understanding should be 
established and maintained between soul and body, 
realizing that they are separate and distinct entities 
— that the body is the servant of the soul and subject 
at all times to its direction. The body belongs to the 
soul instead of the soul belonging to the body. The 
soul lives after the body is dust. It is the Soul, the 
Inner Self or Spirit within the physical body that 
communicates with the disembodied spirits and 
transmits their voices to the physical sense. 

As I listened to the voice as it went on and on I 
realized in all its fullness that I was in actual com- 
munication with a being from the other side of life — 
one who had solved the mystery of what we call death 
and I was conscious of a feeling almost new to me — 
humility. I wondered why, after I had so persistent- 
ly denied and openly ridiculed the supernatural in 
all its phases, that so wonderful a demonstration 
of its existence would be made to me. My previous 
attitude in these premises made me almost afraid in 
the presence of the reality of that which I had always 
denied and a sense of unworthiness weighed heavily 
upon me. A voice soft as music wafted into my 
troubled consciousness: 

'Why not rather rejoice that you have been given 
to know that which you refused to believe blindly?" 

''It would be better, no doubt," I admitted, and 



The Dead Are Alive 25 

wrapping myself in silent meditation, sat engrossed 
until the voice startled me : 

''We are crossing the bridge." 

"So we are," I acquiesced as I looked out over the 
bay, beautiful in the moonlight and rather turbulent 
for a day so calm, and so I sat staring, dreaming 
until the water gave place to the land and the clang- 
ing, stopping train called me from dreaminess into 
the realm of reality. 

A few minutes later I was pressing my way through 
the usual Sunday excursion crowd, and soon had 
reached the automobile and was driven quickly home. 



26 How I Know That 



CHAPTER III. 

"NEVER LESS ALONE THAN WHEN 
ALONE." 

After entering my apartments and locking myself 
in I had the impression of not being alone, which 
caused me to remain near the door I had entered, 
wondering if any one was concealed within. This 
was not a pleasant contemplation to one who had 
never quite outgrown that indefinable awe of the 
darkness which night brings and fastens upon our 
childhood. At first I did not consider this sensation 
as embracing a being of the invisible, but after a- 
moment's reflection, that it did was testified to by a 
voice saying calmly : 

'^I am here." 

While I half expected to hear the voice it startled 
me and I cannot say I was entirely pleased, to have 
this mysterious presence alone with me at night with 
no living thing near. It was well enough during the 
day in the presence of others but now to be locked in 
alone with it in the still watches of the night was 
something quite different — a difference one would 
have to experience to appreciate. 

After deliberating a moment I moved cautiously 
into the middle of the room, where I stood trembling 
in a coldness so intense it was like standing in a re- 
frigerator, this, too, in the latter part of May, after 
rather a warm day. Still combating the impulse to 
run headlong out of the room, I stood transfixed, 
looking about in an agony of awed suspense, cringing 
from I knew not what — some indefinable something 
that I knew was there somewhere — something against 



The Dead Are Alive 27 

which I had no means of defending myself. I do not 
know how long I stood there before the realization 
came upon me that I must do something to break the 
thrall which held me — that I could not stand there 
all night experiencing an awe that paralyzed with 
every pulsebeat. ^'Their fears are most who know 
not what they fear." 

Almost mechanically I began slowly pulling off 
my gloves ; and, fastening them together, tossed them 
on a nearby chair. I then removed my hat, stepped 
nearer to the chair and placed it with something of 
precision upon the gloves. One of the hat pins fell 
and rolled to the floor with a noise that in the dense 
stillness sounded like a bomb explosion and startled 
me most distressingly. 

With a sudden impulse of daring I passed hurriedly 
out of the room into the dressing room beyond, where 
I stopped short, dismayed in the semi-darkness by 
the sensation of many eyes upon me. I sank into a 
chair, almost overcome by the many-sided mystery 
that pressed in upon me on every side, and, summon- 
ing the fragment of remaining courage, I looked 
about the room and was astounded at the apparitions, 
ghosts, spirits — or what you will — there they were in 
all stages of materialization, with white clouds play- 
ing amongst them, in which floated white, transpar- 
ent hands and glimpses of faces and forms dimly dis- 
cernible — and eyes — such eyes! 

I could hear soft footfalls on the floor, as they 
moved about, and knocks coming from everywhere; 
could feel touches and hear whispers — voices calling 
my name in a pleading way. A cold breeze was stir- 
ring about the room and a numbness was upon me as 
I closed my eyes to shut out the sight. But a sense 
of drowsiness warned against possible unconscious- 



28 How I Know That 

ness, which spurred me into action. It was with con- 
siderable effort that I dragged myself out of the chair 
and walked, weak and trembling, into the bed room, 
and stood beside the South window where the gulf 
breezes exercised a reviving effect. 

As I looked out on the calm beauty of the night, I 
gradually shook off the awesome condition that en- 
thralled me and could have laughed at myself for 
what seemed foolish fears and fancies and was 
ashamed of having indulged such demoralizing pro- 
pensities as I admitted myself guilty of. In an effort 
to shake it off entirely I repeated to myself a number 
of times, "I am alone in this room," even trying to 
exclude in thought the one presence I knew to be 
there somewhere. To further this self deception I 
fixed my thoughts upon the events of the day, the 
pleasures thereof, crediting to fancy the visitor of 
mystery, and gradually filling my mind with thoughts 
of my beloved to the exclusion of all things else. 
When I felt myself master of the situation, I walked 
with proud unconcern into the dressing room and be- 
gan preparations for retirement, my thoughts filled 
with something more tangible than ghosts and such 
things, which I kept consciously shut out of my 
mentality. 

I had a most distressing time unhooking the close- 
ranged hooks and eyes on my dress that fastened up 
the back and as I labored with it I could feel hands 
touching mine, as though assisting in the operation, 
yet I stubbornly ignored that which I knew would 
demoralize if recognized and proceeded as placidly 
as such an enforced attitude would permit. 

No sooner were my shoulders bared than an open 
hand, humanly warm, pressed upon one shoulder 
and passed perceptibly across the back to the other. 



The Dead Are Alive 29 

In a paroxysm of fear I drew my waist hastily up 
over my shoulders and sat down utterly overcome. 
Such an unpardonable liberty for even a ghost to take 
and the fact that he had the daring and the ability to 
execute it, was sufficient to frighten one less timid 
than myself. 

Again came the oppressive sense of many eyes 
upon me, making me ashamed of being partly un- 
dressed and I began forthwith repairing the cause 
of my embarassment, with the determination of leav- 
ing the house and spending the remainder of the night 
at a hotel, feeling it impossible to remain all night, 
alone, with that spectral horde — beings to whom 
locks and keys were as nothing. I coujd not restrain 
the tears as I made preparations for this unexplain- 
able exit from the house in the dead hours of night 
but proceeded with unwavering resolution, until a 
hand came upon my arm and I heard a reproachful 
voice saying: 

'^Fanny, don't you know we will not harm you?" 

'^Unfortunately, I do not know it," I responded, 
somewhat bitterly. 

^'Aren't you ashamed of such cowardice?" 

''But why have so many come?" I persisted. 

"Attracted by your ability to recognize and com- 
municate with them. They are rejoicing and are 
here to welcome you. Do not wound them by being 
afraid." 

"I am not afraid now," I replied, feeling some- 
thing like a return of equilibrium, if not of entire as- 
surance. Encouraged by my attitude of neutrality 
they renewed their advances, perceptibly increasing 
in numbers as the room increased in chilliness. Plead- 
ing voices came, "Listen to me, please" — some gave 
names, others were trying to tell of incidents, names. 



30 How I Know That 

dates, days of the week, of the year and of the 
month indiscriminately. It was useless to try to dis- 
criminate, therefore, I listened in a general way, 
while all manner of demonstrations were being made, 
until overcome by the perplexing strain I gave way 
to tears. After indulging somewhat copiously, I 
lifted my head and looked about, to find the room en- 
tirely empty, and, as inconsistent as it may seem, I 
felt aggrieved for having wounded beings, no matter 
what they were, who had come to me with the offer- 
ing of their companionship. A voice came in upon 
my contrition soothingly : 

"Do not worry, child, most of them have had ex- 
istence on earth. They understand, but since coming 
here they have been unable to communicate with 
earth beings although having the ability to do so." 

"If they would only come one at the time," I com- 
plained. 

"It would be better so but as there are so few with 
whom they can intelligently communicate, when one 
is found, it is an event of general rejoicing." 

"Evidently," I made answer thoughtfully, feeling 
sorry for having disappointed them. The voice in- 
terrupted further regret by saying firmly: 

"Now undress and go to bed." 

"Very well," I assented, and with feverish haste 
began, still struggling with the embarrassment of 
undressing before an audience, and put on my night 
clothes with more celerity than ever before in my 
memory; all the time half resenting the tone of au- 
thority the voice assumed. This accomplished, I 
hurried into the bed room to be confronted by a real 
dilemma — that of putting out the light and facing the 
ghosts in the darkness! This does not sound nearly 
so formidable as it really was. It was a combination 



The Dead Are Alive 31 

entirely too much for unmoved contemplation. As I 
stood looking at the light in the fullness of its fancied 
protection, I heard the clock striking and counted 
every stroke — it was twelve o'clock. 

No. There was no need of debating on the subject 
any further — to be locked in with the ghosts was bad 
enough in the light but in the darkness it was impos- 
sible — 1 thing not to be thought of. I remembered 
that I had a little night lamp, which solved the prob- 
lem, despite the faintness of its illumination, and a 
few minutes later I was examining it and congratu- 
lating myself that it was in first-class working order. 
As I tested the wick and examined every part care- 
fully, I was wishing for some living thing in the 
room with me — just anything so long as it was alive. 
I think I would have looked with friendliness upon 
a spider or a fly if one had presented itself, but in 
those well screened rooms such things rarely 
ventured. 

I sorely regretted leaving my little, white, toy dog. 
Coots, to remain over night at the home of the friend 
who had cared for him during the day. He was al- 
ways in the room with me at night, and this night, 
of all nights, I needed his loving, living companion- 
ship and ardently wished that I had driven by for 
him en route home — it was only a few blocks out of 
the way. How alone I felt yet was anything but 
alone! 

After thoroughly satisfying myself as to the relia- 
bility of the little lamp, I placed it very carefully 
where the light would shed its protection on the bed, 
lighted it and looked upon it with approbation, al- 
though it was about as far below par as the other was 
above. Then I walked over, put out the light and 
stood in the darkness ! This I lost no time in remedy- 



32 How I Know That 

ing, and stood, puzzled, looking at the little lamp; 
then went over, took it up and examined it without 
finding any cause for its delinquency. While I half 
suspected it was the work of invisible agencies, I was 
reluctant to accept that which was more disturbing 
than reassuring and dismissing the suspicion, took the 
little lamp, placed it where I knew it was secure from 
the faintest breath of draught and lighted it with the 
very last match in the room! I viewed it more criti- 
cally this time but none the less satisfactorily. 

I put the light out again and was appalled with 
the same result! This time I stood in the darkness, 
so annoyed, that I almost forgot to be afraid, staring 
at the place where I knew the night lamp was ; won- 
dering at the repeated extinction of the light. Then 
I knew and a great fear grew and grew upon me un- 
til it was something dreadful and I closed my eyes 
to shut out the sight of anything that might confront 
me in the chilly darkness. I felt a presence coming 
nearer and instinctly lifted my hand to ward it off. 
A cold grasp met my hand and pressed it firmly 
downward, until it rested by my side, with all the 
strength gone out of it, and a voice stern with re- 
proach was saying: 

''Fear is unworthy of you." 

"Did you put that light out?" I demanded, ignor- 
ing what had been said, as I was in anything but a 
philosophizing frame of mind. 

"I did," came the voice evenly. 

"Why?" I demanded. 

"Lest you prove yourself unworthy." 

There was something painful about this rebuke, 
bringing a sense of unworthiness, and despite the 
trembling of my limbs I went swiftly across the 
room, jumped into bed, pulled the light covers up 



The Dead Are Alive 33 

over my head (as I had so often done as a frightened 
child), shut my eyes and listened, with heart beating 
wildly. I knew the presence who had chided me 
stood beside the bed, but, I could not, it seemed, re- 
move the cover from my face nor open my eyes, while 
feeling it was required of me. The very concentrated 
essence of fear was upon me — never had I been so 
demoralized by any sensation, when a voice com- 
manded : 

'^Uncover your head." 

For an instant I felt that it might just as well have 
said ^^Cut off your head," for one seemed about as 
easy to do as the other. But after a brief hesitation, 
during which something seemed to touch my fear 
with neutralization, I obeyed calmly, opening my 
eyes at the same time and looking in the direction 
from whence came the voice. 

''Are you afraid?" came the voice so laden with 
reproach that I almost shrank before it. 

"I was, but I am notnow/^ I made answer truth- 
fully, as fear had passed away so completely, that I 
could scarcely realize that I had just emerged from 
the agony of it and was alone in the darkness with a 
ghost, who conversed with as much unconcern as 
though the sun was beating down in the noontide of 
day. This change of mental attitude was so pro- 
nounced that my thoughts kept reverting to it, so 
much so, that finally I asked: 

''Why was I so dreadfully frightened?" 

"That you may become superior to fear — to ex- 
perience fear in its extremity is to recognize the full- 
ness of its impotency." 

"Am I superior to fear now?" I asked eagerly. 

"That remains to be seen." 

Then as if to prove one assertion and test the other 



34 How I Know That 

the room, began filling with misty clouds, white and 
undulating in movement, in which I caught glimpses 
of faces and forms, vibrating, ever moving. Blazing 
eyes shone fieetingly from behind the clouds; vapory 
hands reached toward me in entreaty and voices came 
pleadingly, while I watched them eagerly, unafraid. 
I could feel their touches, feel the bed tremble and 
shake under their manifestations but was no longer 
afraid — quite the contrary. The weird, wondrous 
beauty, the mystery of it, appealed to me and as I lay 
watching the misty whiteness and shadowy forms 
within, listening to the voices, with cool, soft breezes 
playing about me, there came such a sense of joyous 
uplifting that the whole earth seemed made anew in 
this conscious harmony with the invisible. 

"It lies around us like a cloud, 

The world we cannot see. 
Yet the sweet closing of an eye 

May bring us there to be ; 
Its gentle breezes fan our cheeks. 

Amid our earthly cares ; 
Its gentle voices whisper love. 

And mingle with our prayers." 

"One — two," I counted. The clock had struck 
two, calling me back to the reality of passing time. 
The voice beside me, after expressing pleasure that 
I had accepted the coming of the Unseen in the spirit 
of its meaning, said with finality: 

"You may sleep now — goodnight." 

What has this entity of mystery to do with my 
sleeping? I was asking myself, as I watched the white 
mist disperse, the shadowy forms and fancies vanish, 
felt the vibrations cease and listened to the soft re- 



The Dead Are Alive 35 

treating footfalls on the stairs and galleries, which 
sounded unbelievably real. Yet, even then, I real- 
ized that it was given only to add a touch of reality 
to the unreal, that the finite mind might better grasp 
it. Whether we realize it or not, there is nothing so 
convincing to the mind as sound. 

Then as if going out with the rest of it, I drifted 
into a dreamless sleep that held me until the morning 
sun was shining. 

When I awoke I sat up in bed and looked about 
guiltily, half expecting to find them still there. Then 
I sat on the bedside, while memory, that most reliable 
attribute of mentality, insisted on demonstrating its 
power of retention, by rehearsing the mystery-laden 
incidents of the day and night — incidents that had 
caused the pendulum to alternate between fear and 
confidence, defiance and acceptance, until they sub- 
sided in joyous surrender. Now as I viewed it in the 
broad light of day, it seemed a wild, mad, dream; so 
much so that it frightened — alarmed me and I arose 
hurriedly and began dressing for the street, deter- 
mined to tear out of my consciousness what the day 
dream of yesterday and the night-mare of last night 
had fastened upon it. 

As I dressed with this determination prodding me 
I was startled by the voice that I was trying so hard 
to forget that I had ever heard: 

''Why fight against what you know exists?" 

"Please hush — do not begin the day with the mys- 
tery of your voice. Whatever you are, be merciful — 
give me a chance to adjust myself to that which I 
would fain reject, despite its clamorings for recogni- 
tion." 

"As you will," assented the voice calmly, while 
emotions and conjectures ran riot within and I was 



36 How I Know That 

further away from a solution than ever, as I would 
not accept what deep down in my inner conscious- 
ness I knew it was. With this raging conflict in my 
soul I went out and while the tension was somewhat 
lessened by a brisk walk, there was ever the con- 
sciousness that I was not alone. All during the day 
when I came in contact with those who knew me, I 
was conscious of an effort to regulate my actions in 
accordance with what would be recognized as ^'natu- 
ral" — to be outwardly calm and well poised regard- 
less of the storm within. 

When the voice came, as it did at intervals, during 
the day, it was gently repulsed with a tentative prom- 
ise of later recognition. The presence never left me 
— I could feel the pressure of its force upon me while 
I resisted it — while I denied its existence and was 
fighting against unconditional surrender. At the 
same time I realized that a priceless jewel was being 
offered me : I wanted to take it, to hold it, to press it 
to my heart, yet was afraid to touch it — afraid to 
have it touch me — a fear that was not physical but 
was a feeling as inexplicable as the cause of it. To 
accept would be to form all my conceptions and con- 
clusions of life over again. Being a recognized free- 
thinker, to admit a change of sentiment would be a 
compromise of pride. 

And thus all day long I fought the bitter fight with 
an undercurrent of defeat uppermost in my con- 
sciousness. 



The Dead Are Alive 37 

CHAPTER IV 
SHADOWS OF NIGHT. 

When night came again and I was locked within 
my apartments my little dog was with me playing 
about while I changed my street clothes for more 
comfortable house apparel. 

When I sat down to read the evening paper he lay 
on a sofa pillow at my feet, evidently free from any 
disturbing influence. In a few minutes he jumped 
hurriedly into my lap, barking furiously at some in- 
visible object. I tried to comfort him but to no avail. 
Suddenly the barking ceased, the tenseness went out 
of his body and he trembled violently, dumb with 
fear. Thoroughly alarmed I arose with him, walked 
about, talking to him, but in his endeavor to keep the 
object of his perturbation under observation, he came 
so near falling out of my arms that I placed him on 
the bed and sat down beside him. Instantly he jumped 
wildly off and ran under it, crouching as far back as 
possible, with trembling in his body and fear in his 
eyes. I made every effort to coax him out but he 
only wagged his tail feebly and looked miserable, 
refusing to move. Wondering what had so fright- 
ened him I looked searchingly about the room but 
there was nothing unusual in its appearance, not even 
a suggestion of the supernatural other than a cold- 
ness out of harmony with the temperature of the day. 
Again I tried to coax him out but when he persist- 
ently refused his attitude of dejection so appealed to 
me that I crawled under and brought him out against 
his inclination. After a little while his fears subsid- 
ed and I put him on the bed, covering him up com- 



38 How I Know That 

pletely. A slight trembling of the body was the 
only remaining evidence of his perturbation. 

Realizing that sleep was impossible I pulled an 
easy chair before a south window and sat where the 
cool, salt-laden gulf breeze could blow away some 
of the cobwebs the spiders of mystery had been weav- 
ing in my brain, and where lost in thought I looked 
out on the beauty of a summer's night with its soft 
undulating shadows without seeing it; listened to 
the calling of the sea without hearing it; was fanned 
by the cool breeze without feeling it, enmeshed in a 
tangled web of mystery that defied unraveling. 

Then began a solemn marching, first in disorder 
then single file, of all the stories I had ever read or 
heard pertaining to ghosts, apparitions, spirits, and 
all things supernatural, brushing the dust of time 
from these unfrequented paths of memory. I viewed 
each eagerly, analytically, as it passed on leaving a 
sense of insufficiency in its wake, shedding no light 
on the present, which half irritated me, causing me 
to swing with the pendulum to the other extreme and 
try with all the intensity of which I was capable to 
convince myself the whole thing was a fabric of 
fancy — that science could never justify such foolish- 
ness. A voice startled me : 

"Why do you persist in trying to deceive yourself?" 

"I am trying not to deceive myself — hush, please, 
let me think it out alone." 

"As you will." 

I knew the room was now peopled with entities of 
other worlds, but resolutely turned my face away and 
sent my mind backward into the blank pages of past 
experiences, and could have laughed at the comedy 
of it if it had not been so enormously outweighed by 
my intensity of purpose. There I was, perplexed be- 



The Dead Are Alive 39 

yond endurance, trying desperately to summon evi- 
dence from the pages of the past when all around and 
about me, waiting upon my acceptance or rejection, 
was evidence enough to convince the whole world. 
I was however like the rest of the world — did not 
care to be convinced. 

This time I went far back, even violating child- 
hood by digging up the ^'hant" stories of my old black 
nurse (black mammy) with which she had induced 
sleep when my childish perseverity ignored her 
crooning lullabies. She had an array of cellar, attic, 
old house ''hants," but her favorite and most effective 
one, in so far as I was concerned, was that of a head- 
less ^'nigger" who had ^'hanted" "de quarter" after 
the war, in which he had lost his head, and, according 
to her version, was always looking for a head to ap- 
propriate, caring little whether it was white or col- 
ored. Here is where my childish interest began and 
ended. No matter how strong my inclination had 
been to get up and play, after her assurance that if I 
did not go to sleep my head would be appropriated 
by the ''hant," I would creep further and further 
down between the white sheets, scarcely daring to 
breathe. Thus cold and trembling I would pass into 
dreamland, where sometimes I met the horrible 
^'hant" face to face, while she rejoiced in her ability 
to put ^'dat sweet chile" to sleep without scolding 
her. 

I smiled bitterly and thought with a shudder of 
the ^'countless millions" who are sacrificed on the 
altar of mistaken kindness! 

Then memory fastened upon a little school mate 
who was unsophisticated enough to admit in broad 
day light on the play grounds of the school that she 
not only saw ''spirits" but talked with them — that 



40 How I Know That 

they told her many things, some of which she retailed 
to us, baring the whole story of her little psychic 
soul to a jesting, frivolous bevy of school girls, who 
heaped ridicule upon her sensitive, innocent head 
even while she was telling the story. There was a 
sting in the memory that / was not the least among 
them. 

Because of this confidence she was completely 
ostracized by the girls and even now memory brings 
back her little tear-stained face and pleading eyes as 
she looked at the girls who would not play with her. 
I was sorry for her but not sorry enough to act toward 
her as I now would have others act toward me. 

Later this sensitive little flower was transplanted 
to another garden far from the ridicule that had made 
her life unbearable, all for daring to tell what I now 
know was the truth. 

I dwelt painfully upon this incident for some time, 
even after all these years, chiding myself for the part 
I played in it. Then shaking it off with an ef- 
fort I passed on over a psychologically barren period 
from childhood to young womanhood, where an in- 
cident, with practically nothing in common with the 
present, clamored for recognition, and as it belongs 
to the family of things not measurable by the scien- 
tific yardstick, I may as well record it, although the 
voice I heard was of the living instead of the so- 
called dead. 

I was away from home, at a hotel, and in the early 
morning between four and five o'clock, I was awak- 
ened by a pulling at my pillow and at the same time 
heard distinctly the voice of my sister saying: 

'Tanny, Eddie Lou is dead — come to me." 

I sat up in bed, looking quickly around, half ex- 
pecting to see my sister, for surely it was her voice I 



The Dead Are Alive 41 

had heard. There being nothing tangible I tried to 
believe I had dreamed it, but I knew I had not and 
arose with the conviction that my sister's baby was 
dead, without understanding how the intelligence 
had been conveyed to me. When I turned on the light 
I was distressed to find the train was due in a few 
minutes, rendering it impossible for me to dress and 
reach the depot in time, which I would have done 
had time permitted. 

A few minutes later a message came confirming 
the child's death and asking me to come, but the train 
had already gone. 

As this incident persisted and refused to be waved 
aside as a thing out of keeping with the present mani- 
festations, I wondered if, after all, it was not a mat- 
ter of soul speaking to soul, differing from the present 
only in the souls being disembodied. It is reasonable 
to suppose, I contended, that a soul is the same entity 
within or out of the body. Why not? I was em- 
bodied and in communication with the disembodied, 
manifesting the same principle under different en- 
vironments. 

As I was casting about for some other incident to 
fasten upon, a voice interrupted: 

'^The past has nothing to give — accept the present." 

*'Wait until I finish the review — I must satisfy my- 
self," I contended. 

"If you must," came half ironically. 

I went back and took up the thread, coming on 
down the uneventful line to the time when I strayed 
into the pastures of materialism, which gave to me 
the joyous (?) freedom of believing nothing, during 
which time there came stories of the occult and spirit- 
ual only to excite my ridicule. So powerful is the 
influence of non-belief that even as I passed over this 



42 H(jw I Know That 

period in memory, in my heart I reviled and ridi- 
culed the evidence that surrounded me. All uncon- 
sciously I had gone around the circle and had come 
back to the present and was fighting it, when a voice 
startled me : 

"And so the review brings you back to the pres- 
ent?" 

*'Yes," I reluctantly admitted, and looking up in 
the direction from whence came the voice, my eyes 
met dark, luminous eyes that looked piercingly into 
mine, and then vanished. 

"Who are you?" I demanded. 

"Meon," came the direct, unexpected answer. 

"Meon — Meon," I repeated musingly. There was 
something so familiar about the name that I added, 
more to myself than to the presence, "Where have I 
heard that name before?" 

"You have heard it many times," came the re- 
sponse. 

"When and where?" 

"At different times and under different circum- 
stances since time began." 

"Since time began?" I echoed in interrogatory 
amazement. 

"Yes; and you have existed since time began but 
that matters little at present." 

"What does matter at present?" 

"Your co-operation." 

"That would be an easy matter if you would only 
explain the mystery of your coming — where you 
came from — why you came and all about it. Tell 
me plainly what is required of me." 

"Has life, in any of its phases, ever been explained 
to you other than by living it?" 

"No," I grudgingly admitted. 



The Dead Are Alive 43 

^This phase, being a part of life, is no exception." 

'^In what way is it a part of life? — it is not a part 
of everybody's life." 

^^Yes; it is the subconscious part — the soul life. 
The life of the spirit is continuous and everlasting." 

'^Rather an unrecognized part in the average life, 
is it not?" 

"No. There are indeed few who deny the exist- 
ence of the soul — the indefinable something over 
which the physical has no control." 

"However, I would appreciate some explanation, 
as all this is very disturbing and mysterious to me." 

"You would not believe. Suppose I told you my 
coming was in response to your oft-repeated chal- 
lenge?" 

How vividly my words came back to me: 

"I demand some material, tangible evidence — until 
then I shall believe nothing." It was thus in a tone 
of finality, I always disposed of religious arguments 
that intruded upon my materialistic views, never 
dreaming that that which I demanded would be given 
— in fact, quite the reverse — I was sure it would not. 
And now being actually confronted with the very 
thing that I had demanded I was loath to accept it, 
but there was nothing else to do. I had weighed my 
little store of knowledge or rather store of little 
knowledge in the balance and found it wanting. 

With this realization full upon me I arose, slowly 
turned about and faced the forces that were confront- 
ing me, leaving the will-o-the-wisps of the past to 
the oblivion to which the present consigned them. 
There was no demonstration — they were waiting with 
the patience born only of assurance — over all was an 
unearthly stillness and a "cold creepiness" that made 
me shrink a little as I stood hesitating, waiting for I 



44 How I Know That 

knew not what. A cold hand took mine with a gentle 
pressure that seemed to impel me forward, as a voice 
was saying: 

''Come, bathe in the light of the victory that is 
yours." 

As I wondered at a sentence so strange, many 
voices took up the call "come — come," until the echo 
floated back from afar to the accompaniment of the 
softest music and something within me was making 
response, ''I am here — I have come," as I walked as 
one in a dream and sat upon the bedside in the apathy 
of resignation, which gradually mingled into a joy- 
ousness that comes not of earth. 

After retiring I neither invited nor resisted dem- 
onstrations from that which I knew to be surrounding 
me but lay listlessly observing little lights, all sizes, 
ranging from pin-head size to a few much larger, 
that were fluctuating and vibrating, all scintillating as 
they rolled about within the white mist where flashes 
of miniature lightning were coming and going inter- 
mittently. There was something so restfully fascinat- 
ing about it that sleep threatened to come in and shut 
it out, when suddenly, standing beside the bed was a 
tall, dark person, illuminated from head to feet by a 
scintillating light which came from within and light- 
ed up the body like an electric light does the globe 
which incloses it. This time the luminous eyes blazed 
into mine unflinchingly, as in awe I whispered : 

''Meon?" 

"Yes ; Meon," came the confirmation, as I watched 
it slowly vanish, noting with wonder that the light 
within which had illuminated the body, was the last 
thing to disappear. Before it disappeared, it stood 
in the same spot blazing and scintillating like a live 
thing as I stared at it until it became one with the 



The Dead Are Alive 45 

misty whiteness, and still I could feel the presence 
beside me. 

And thus, with sleep murdered within me, all night 
long I drank deeply of this cup of mystery without 
knowing or caring whether it was the wine of life or 
its poisoned lees, held by its intoxication until the 
gray dawn gave way to the pink sunrise. 



4^ How I Know That 

CHAPTER V. 
FORGING LINKS IN THE CHAIN. 

When morning came, after what seemed a veritable 
reincarnation of the Arabian Nights Dream, I arose 
with a guilty sense of having abused the night by in- 
dulging a dark, untellable secret — something that I 
dared not tell. Despite the wonder and beauty of it 
I was strangely depressed all during the day, feeling 
how differently people would regard me if they only 
knew. 

This companionship with the Invisible had estab- 
lished itself into a permanency and I was never with- 
out conscious knowledge of its existence. When in 
conversation with any one voices would come whis- 
pering, telling of incidents in the life of the one with 
whom I conversed. To this was generally added the 
request to deliver a message but pride always stood 
sentinel between the message and its delivery. Though 
at times, I admit I was "almost persuaded" into re- 
sponsiveness only to be deterred by the knowledge 
that the object of the invisible solicitude could not 
understand 

"The touch of a vanished hand 
I And the sound of a voice that is still." 

During the interval of this solicitude the life of the 
person in question was to me an open book — some- 
thing seemed to impress every condition of his or her 
life upon my mentality — the future as well as the 
past and present. Another noticeable effect was that 
while this condition prevailed the aura (or pale light 



The Dead Are Alive 47 

that envelops the body) not only increased but 
scintillated, moving and changing, sometimes from 
one color to another. Different colors predominate 
in different persons and are more pronounced and ex- 
tended in persons in public life than otherwise. Un- 
der ordinary conditions this light is barely percep- 
tible even to the occult vision. 

And thus the days went on as I struggled to adjust 
myself to living in two worlds, eaSh exacting its ob- 
ligations, while I tried to differentiate as to where the 
one began and the other ended. As the other, how- 
ever, was so evidently a part of or continuation of 
this, I could only say "World without end," and let 
it go at that. 

One Friday evening soon after retiring Meon came 
and said solemnly: 

"I am going away tonight. Be not deceived dur- 
ing my absence." 

While I listened for some explanation he vanished, 
leaving a sense of apprehensive loneliness which was 
not easy to shake off. Why had he gone; in what 
way could his going affect me; how could I be de- 
ceived. All this I was asking myself in perplexity 
when it dawned upon me that I needed rest and re- 
laxation from the mysterious disturbance that had 
not abated since the advent of the voice the Sunday 
before, and I rejoiced in anticipation of the much 
needed rest. In my heart thanking Meon for his 
consideration, as the physical and mental strain had 
been intense, I forthwith adjusted myself comfortably 
and relaxed in the presence of sleep that was upon 
me without any wooing. 

As I lay between sleeping and waking the bed 
shook violently, so much so that I was nearly thrown 
off. The dog, with a piteous whine, jumped off and 



48 How I Know That 

scampered to his refuge underneath, and I sat up, 
listening and looking about inquiringly. There was 
nothing to be seen or heard. "Dreaming, perhaps," 
I murmured — but what about the dog? In sleepy 
indecision I lay down again but scarcely had I done 
so when the shaking began, more violent than before, 
and so continuous that the bed seemed rocking too 
and fro within a radius of about two feet, while 
from under the bed the mattress was being pushed 
up, as by hands directly beneath me, rolling me about 
from side to side with such energy and persistence 
that it was all I could do to keep from rolling off. 
When I became thoroughly annoyed, this form of 
manifestation abated somewhat, giving place to a 
weird creaking that kept up so monotonously that it 
became nerve-racking in the extreme. When it 
seemed I could not endure it another instant, I de- 
manded of the very silence what it meant. With 
startling promptness the answer came: 

"Oh, nothing. We are just keeping the fans busy 
— note the effect." With this a cold draft struck 
shivers into my very soul to the accompaniment of a 
chorus of laughter which gave the impression of a 
joke — a joke coming from such a source! It is im- 
possible to conceive of what a weird, "creepy" sen- 
sation such laughter produced^ — the appalling in- 
congruity of the "dead" joking and laughing! It was 
something beyond my appreciation, yet, why should 
they not laugh and joke? A soul out of the body is 
little changed from that within. As there are fun- 
loving souls on earth is it not reasonable to suppose 
this propensity remains the same after the transition 
from matter into a more unrestricted environment? 
A complete and sudden change would mean loss of 
identity, the one thing we do not care to lose. No 



The Dead Are Alive 49 

future, however wonderful, would appeal to us if we 
were not to be ourselves — it is the exalted condition 
of the conscious ego that appeals to us, all of which 
is a problem that only evolution can work out. 

As I shivered in the uncertainty of this new phase 
of spirit life — a disillusioning phase, I must admit — 
all kinds of manifestations were going merrily on, 
knocks ranging from the soft telegraphic clickings 
on the metal bed to boisterous noises about the room 
and house. Footsteps were hurrying in every direc- 
tion; little lights were coming in and going out of 
existence all about the room. Forms and faces gave 
me fleeting glimpses of themselves; the door knob 
turned and shook as though some one tried to force 
an entrance, after which a hand seized upon my arm 
so real that it frightened me into the belief that some 
one had forced an entrance into the room. The 
screen doors were opening and shutting, as well as 
the door between the bed room and dressing room, 
papers rattled, chairs moved about noisily and voices 
began telling unreasonable stories, as hands pressed 
upon me, peals of laughter coming ever and anon. 
I tried desperately not to be afraid but success is 
not always a matter of effort. It was beyond endur- 
ance and when I would have gotten up, I was alarmed 
to find myself incapable of doing so — something 
seemed to hold me. This was the proverbial ''last 
straw," and my temper grew several degrees warmer 
than my body, as I chafed at the insolence. Then 
came the cry of my little dog, under the stimulus of 
which I jumped up and weak though I was, sat on the 
bedside, and called to him. He persisted in refusing 
to obey my calling, therefore, as soon as I was equal 
to the exertion, I crawled under and brought him out 
in a condition of such abject terror that he seemed 



50 How I Know That 

more dead than alive, which fact added new fuel to 
my resentment and I began casting about for some 
means of suppressing the annoyance, when a calm,, 
challenging voice came: 

"Why did you not command us to go, after which 
we could not have remained?" 

"Go now and never return," I commanded, with 
a feeling of relief that such company could be so 
easily disposed of. After listening to them go and 
the pall of silence, as the calm after the storm, came 
upon me, I half regretted my harshness but not 
enough to recall them, as I did not care to have my 
little dog frightened to death, to say nothing of my- 
self. 

Experience has since taught me that there is a law 
in the world of shadows that at the mundane com- 
mand spirits must go at once and without question. 
This I consider the most expedient prerogative con- 
nected with the communication between the two 
realms, as there are undesirable spirit entities as well 
as any other contrary to the preconceived ideas as to 
the infallibility of all pertaining to the spirit world. 
Discrimination in the choice of unseen associates is 
even more essential than in the seen, as their mental 
influence is greater. While the rule of "like attracts 
like" is generally applicable and can be relied on to 
a certain extent after one acquires spiritual under- 
standing, there are varied and noteworthy exceptions 
that one passing into the privilege of such communi- 
cation very soon discovers, more or less, to his or her, 
disillusionment. 

When I finally returned to bed I waited in fearful 
uncertainty for a renewal of the "wake," but every- 
thing was still almost to oppression, and while I lis- 
tened for their coming, sleep came instead, shutting 



The Dead Are Alive 51 

out all further disturbances, making it a matter of 
indifference whether they came or not. 

The next day the desire was strong upon me to tell 
these strange things to some one who could under- 
stand — if such a being existed, and in this connection 
I remembered my manicurist, who had, some time 
previously, told me of a ''medium" she had consulted 
and was enthusiastic with satisfaction. Although at 
the time I had laughed most heartily at her credulity 
and shocked her by telling her exactly how I felt 
about such matters, now I was determined to find 
out where her oracle could be found and ask for 
audience with her. My nails were not especially in 
need of manicuring but an hour after this resolution 
my hands were on the manicurist's table, she filing 
away on my nails, as we discussed this most important 
personage, I affecting an indifference I was far from 
feeling. 

When I came out of the parlors I dismissed the 
car, fearing that, as it stood waiting before the Spirit- 
ualist Temple, the chauffeur or number might be 
recognized by some one who knew me and that my 
inconsistency would become a matter of comment. 
I was not ready to give publicity to that which had 
revolutionized my views where they had been most 
dogmatic. 

As I had never consulted a ''medium" nor attended 
a seance nor believed anything I had ever heard 
about such things, except to their discredit, it is 
small wonder that this radical departure made me 
feel like a guilty thing; that I was violating one of 
the highest standards of my life. Too, my fiance was 
a well known freethinker and I knew my action 
would meet with his direct condemnation. 

It was a long walk and a hot day and after all the 



52 How I Know That 

agony of it I arrived at the Temple to find the object 
of my inquiry away for the summer! 

Disappointment weighed heavily upon me as I 
turned away and walked slowly home resolved to 
venture no further in such premises feeling that I had 
exhausted all my initiative for radical departure 
from the "trodden path," to which I had returned 
and was meekly treading, half ashamed of my digres- 
sion. 

What a week it had been ! Passing to all appearances 
just as any other week since time began and yet I 
wondered, if in all the world there was another who 
had experienced the marvelous and radical changes 
that had affected me! Science, where the super- 
natural is concerned, had laid its sceptre down; the 
flag of materialism had fallen into the hands of 
Knowledge; the dark door of death had swung on 
its creaking hinges, revealing a light beyond which 
consumes the darkness that makes us tremble on its 
threshold — truly I seemed to have changed my per- 
sonality and if it is true "as a man thinketh, so he is," 
I had. The same to all appearances, and yet how 
different! 

As I expected to spend the morrow, as I had the 
previous Sunday, with my fiance, I retired rather 
early, but not before taking the precaution of asking 
my landlady to call me early, as I could not antici- 
pate what the night might require of me and would 
take no chances of oversleeping and missing the 
eight-thirty train to La Porte, where I expected to 
meet my fiance and his party and spend the day cruis- 
ing about the bay, a recreation we both enjoyed. 
With this end in view his yacht had, during the after- 
noon, steamed up to Sylvan Beach, La Porte, as a 
precaution against delays or disappointments. 



The Dead Are Alive 53 

It was thus I lay dreaming of the morrow and its 
anticipated pleasures, without a thought of the in- 
visibles, when Morpheus folded me within the 
mantle where dreams and realities are one. 



54 How I Know That 

CHAPTER VI. 
WITH THE COMING OF THE DAWN. 

**Awake — get up," came a command to which I 
gave obedience almost before I was consciously 
awake and sat sleepily on the bedside, wondering if 
I had been dreaming. All doubt was dissipated by 
the voice : 

"Get out of bed," — I stood up and moved uncer- 
tainly to the middle of the room, noting a suggestion 
of the dawn in the semishadows that played about 
and the gray that pressed upon the window panes. 
This I noted with surprise as I fancied the night still 
young, feeling that I had slept only a very short time. 
The clock striking four relieved further conjecture 
as to the time. 

"Pull down the shades," was the next order, which 
I obeyed rather mechanically, pulling them full 
down, rendering the room quite dark. There was no 
thought of turning on the light as I felt instinctively 
the darkness had its purpose, otherwise it would not 
have been enforced by lowered shades. 

As I stood hesitating, waiting for further orders, 
as it were, I was directed to take a footstool to a given 
point in the room and sit upon it. This I did with- 
out question, realizing that it was Meon who was 
giving the directions and was pleased that he had re- 
turned ; but refrained from expressing myself there- 
on, as something a vast deal more important seemed 
in process of manifestation. 

After sitting as directed for a few minutes, drowsi- 
ness came over me, the heaviness of which caused me 
to forget that there was no back to the stool and my 



The Dead Are Alive 55 

leaning against the back that wasn't resulted most dis- 
astrously. Thoroughly awakened, I scrambled up, 
with resentment burning in my heart because of the 
seemingly whimsical preference for a stool, when 
several comfortable chairs were in the room, for 
which I would have exchanged the stool, but a voice 
vibrant with command smote my consciousness : 

^'Sit where you are," and I settled down with an 
emphasis in keeping with the tone of command, con- 
scious of an almost overpowering chilliness, as I 
waited for I knew not what. As I conjectured, I per- 
ceived a little light fluctuating before my face, fixing 
my attention. As I looked at it, it assumed a pointed 
shape and began moving slowly away, my eyes fol- 
lowing. So it continued to move until it stood direct- 
ly over a white easel on which was a life size portrait 
of my fiance. Here it stopped, scintillating, grow- 
ing in size and power of illumination. After holding 
this vibratory, scintillating position a few seconds, it 
moved, with a rolling efifect, downward until it paused 
directly in front of the face of the portrait, where it 
stood quivering, emitting a light sufficient to make 
the features distinctly discernible, despite the dark- 
ness of the room. Thus suspended, it began quiver- 
ing into nothingness and darkness was over every- 
thing. 

While there was nothing especially interesting 
about this, I sat with my attention focused on the 
spot where it had disappeared, almost breathlessly 
waiting for the indefinable '^something" to happen; 
but as nothing eventuated, somewhat disappointedly, 
I looked about the room and was fascinated by alter- 
nating shadows of darkness and light, blending so 
intimately that they seemed a commingling mass of 
light and darkness, one, yet distinct, moving noise- 



^6 How I Know That 

lessly in circular waves toward the easel, which 
seemed the magnet. The light would quiver over the 
portrait, giving just a glimpse of it, when the shroud 
of the pursuing darkness would shut it out, and thus 
it alternated, becoming more and more distinct and 
individualized until a pale, bluish illumination 
fringed the edges of the shadows, making the sepa- 
rateness more pronounced — the lightness more weird- 
ly effulgent — the darkness as an Egyptian midnight. 
The darkness would fall into the light like a great 
curtain, obscuring everything, and in turn the white- 
ness would come with a silvery glow, giving soft out- 
line to everything within its area. As I gazed upon 
the mystic beauty of it, suddenly there came down, 
over and about the easel, a great flood of vibrating 
whiteness, lighting up everything with a radiance, 
revealing to my astonishment a clean, white, blank 
canvas, where only a few minutes before I had looked 
upon the likeness of, what was to me, the dearest face 
in the world! I bounded forward in the face of 
this daring obliteration, with rescuing intentions, but 
my rising attempt was firmly suppressed by a power, 
not as of hands, but a concentrated force, more pow- 
erful and impressive, that forced me down with an 
emphasis that checked even the desire to rise. 

Held by this strange power I began wondering if 
it was possible that I could be dreaming, at the same 
time, felt convinced that I was not. Be that as it may, 
I was not satisfied and wanted something tangible 
that would bear material evidence when the light of 
day laughs at the dreams of night. I began casting 
about and summoning these mute, material witnesses 
that were to stand before the judgment of the mor- 
row, and in so doing felt a sense of "laying up treas- 
ures" of victory that nothing else could give. First, 



The Dead Are Alive 57 

I noted that one of the sheets lay partly on the floor, 
where it had been dragged as I made my hasty and 
half conscious obedience to the command to arise; 
also there was one of my bed-room slippers with 
heel up and at right angles to the other. That was 
all I could see in the semi-darkness that was worthy 
of subpoenaing. Feeling these inadequate, I removed 
my engagement ring from the third finger of the left 
hand and placed it on the third finger of my right, 
a most unusual thing, as the ring was rarely removed 
from my finger under any pretext. Lastly I reached 
over, not being permitted to get up, and removed an 
onyx tablet from the lower section of a table which 
stood near and placed it on the floor beside me. 

Thoroughly satisfied, I viewed my assembled wit- 
nesses and again gave my attention to that from 
which I had withdrawn it, with the assurance that 
no matter what developments the night might bring 
forth these witnesses would stand as evidence against 
it being a dream, no matter how interwoven it might 
be with unreality. 

As the easel had been the objective of the 
preceding phenomena, I naturally fixed my attention 
on the spot where I knew it was. Intense darkness 
was prevailing at the time. This darkness was like 
a proscenium curtain, studded with miniature lights, 
and vibrating with variegated colors. It began to 
rise slowly, revealing beyond a flood of silvery light, 
holding within itself the easel, which was swaying 
lightly, from side to side, up and down, within a 
radius of about two feet. The canvas within the 
frame was no longer blank — there were two objects 
plainly discernible. 

Tense with anxiety at to what the canvas was 
about to reveal, I watched eagerly, as the swaying 



58 How I Know That 

merged into vibrations, and vibrations into visible 
tremblings. The shadow of darkness came down, ob- 
scuring it entirely from my vision, abruptly changing 
expectation into disappointment, a reaction to whose 
agony only experience can testify. I could have 
fallen face downward on the floor and cried out 
against the cruelty of it, when a hand was laid lightly 
on my head and an encouraging voice was saying: 

"Patience yet a little while." 

With this I forced myself back under the strain of 
expectancy and sat watching and waiting, while 
touches came on my face, hands and hair, as though 
the invisible entities would assure me that I was not 
alone in the darkness. 

Suddenly the whole room seemed to pulsate, the 
very air became charged with life, thronging with 
unearthly shapes and shadows — alive with the very 
reality of the unreal. The coldness accordingly in- 
creased until breathing seemed difficult, but the easel, 
like a magnet, held my eyes, and my heart beat wild- 
ly with expectation. Slowly the dark curtain was 
rising again and beyond, in the silvery whiteness, 
were the forms and faces of two human beings plain- 
ly outlined and I was straining every nerve in the 
quivering intensity of hopeful recognition. Then a 
great illumination fell into the silvery mist with 
various colors playing within its soft meshes. As it 
spread over the entire room, it encompassed me with- 
in its glow, and I stared at that which stood before 
me, fully revealed and recognizable. 

In the quivering whiteness the picture frame 
seemed only a window and standing out beyond it, 
looking at me with love in their eyes and happiness 
on their radiant faces, were my parents, who had 
only a few years before passed behind the veil, which 



The Dead Are Alive 59 

was now lifted that I might know they still lived 
in the mystic realm beyond it. 

No word was spoken, no sign given ; and while yet 
my heart was calling out its love to them they quiv- 
ered into nothingness. Still I sat fascinated, gazing 
enraptured at the place where they had stood, yet 
realizing they had gone, as the calm eyes of the 
portrait were looking steadily into mine, bearing no 
evidence of having served as an impromptu reception 
hall for envoys from another world. And still I sat 
— held by the spell of it — the hushed, half-awed sa- 
credness held me within itself, powerless to turn 
away from where the shadowy footprints of unre- 
ality had just fallen on the register of reality, break- 
ing down the barrier between the two. 

I was startled by the landlady's knock on the door, 
punctuated by: 

'^It is time to get up." 

The little dog, barking furiously, rushed from his 
refuge under the bed, glad, no doubt, to have some 
real, live, human being to take issue with, while I 
arose and unlocked the door. She entered with a 
cup of hot coffee, the one thing I needed most, as I 
was very cold and my nerves not up to their usual 
standard of steadiness. 

As I stood holding the coffee, expressing my ap- 
preciation therefor, I examined the mute witnesses 
which I had assembled for the light of day which 
had now come. I noted carefully the sheet which was 
partly on the floor; the one slipper, heel up; the ring 
on the third finger of my right hand and beside the 
footstool, the onyx slab. This she noted, looking at 
me inquiringly, to which I vouchsafed no explana- 
tion, as we turned and went into the dressing room, 
where I drank the coffee and began, with her assist- 



6o How I Know That 

ance, to make my toilet for the day, in accordance 
with the dictation of a voice which evidenced interest 
in my personal appearance for the occasion. The 
costume selected was an all-over hand embroidered 
linen, champagne colored, with every thing to match, 
which made up in elegance what it lacked in ap- 
propriateness as a yachting costume. 

As I proceeded with my toilet voices from the in- 
visible almost drowned every other sound as they 
poured in upon me from every direction, causing a 
preoccupation of manner that even the light talk in 
which I indulged could not disguise, as was evidenced 
by her question : 

'^Aren'tyou well?" 

"Perfectly," I replied hastily, but realizing that 
indisposition would be the most natural excuse for 
my distrait manner, I added, forcing a little laugh, 
"You know getting up early always puts me out of 
tune, but as I feel so unusually inharmonious this 
morning, I presume I am not quite well." 

"Would you care for another cup of coffee?" she 
asked kindly, expressing sympathy because of my 
indisposition. 

"Thank you — no," I answered, assuring her of my 
appreciation of the solicitude she heaped upon me, 
feeling the unworthiness that is born of deception. 
Then, as if by mutual consent we lapsed into silence, 
for which I was very grateful. 

How I wished I could creep away to some quiet 
spot where there were no appearances to keep up, 
no voices, mundane or supermundane to interfere, as 
there was a sacred silence they seemed to violate. 
With hushed reverence my thoughts kept reverting 
to that which had just given assurance of love that 
outlives death; of ideals that persist through dil 
forms of life's continuity. 



The Dead Are Alive 6l 

CHAPTER VII. 
A DAY WITH THE INVISIBLES AT SEA. 

^Tatti, I am here," came a sweet girlish voice, so 
familiar it startled me into forgetfulness that I was 
wishing for silent meditation, and in awed uncer- 
tainty, I whispered interrogatively: 

"Lillian?" Not a sound came as I listened with 
intensity not unmixed with perplexity, as I did not 
then know the only person who ever so addressed me 
had passed into the world of Silence. It was a friend 
of my girlhood, who knowing and appreciating my 
musical aspirations, had, in a girlish, jesting way, so 
termed me as I sang the hours away instead of join- 
ing her in the amusements she preferred. 

Strangest of all came the perfume of violets, which 
in earth life had always heralded her coming, and as 
I marveled, her spontaneous, inimitable laughter 
broke the stillness and I knew it could be none other. 
The well remembered voice came again : 

"Patti, you do not sing any more, my prima donna 
dreamer." 

''Oh, Lillian," I cried, ''don't — if you know any- 
thing you know why, but it does not matter now." 

"Forgive me, dear, I only wanted to convince you 
that it is really I." 

"I am convinced but cannot realize that you have 
passed out of this life — tell me all about it — what was 
the cause?" 

"Oh, I rode out on fever," she replied in her light- 
est, most frivolous vein and laughed in that old care- 
free, joyous way that made my heart bound with de- 



62 How I Know That 

light and the years roll back to the sweet intimacy of 
our girlhood days, which now seemed so long ago. 

"Haven't you learned to be serious yet?" I chided, 
for as much as I loved her, her frivolity was an im- 
perfection to which at times I did not hesitate to call 
her attention. "Tell me all about it — how long have 
you been there?" 

"Don't take it so seriously — rather rejoice with me 
that I am free and happy and have been here long 
enough to pass beyond all obstructions and go where 
I will. I often come to you and go to Edgar (a mu- 
tual friend), but this is the first time you have ever 
recognized me — Edgar never has." 

"Let me see your face," I insisted. 

"Not now, but I will when I come in different 
vibrations." 

"But what is the difference?" I questioned in sur- 
prise. 

"Much, as you will soon learn." 

The honk-honk of the auto horn brought me back 
to a realization of mundane demands and I hurried 
out bidding the landlady good-morning and was fol- 
lowed down the steps by her wishes for a pleasant 
day. 

As we drove toward the depot I felt a presence be- 
side me and looking around I saw Lillian as dis- 
tinctly as I had ever seen her in life, with her laugh- 
ing eyes looking into mine and the same care-free 
smile on her lips. She did not speak but vanished 
almost as quickly as I saw her, leaving a sense of dis- 
appointment at the sudden withdrawal of what 
seemed a touch of reality to what had seemed very 
unreal. 

Since then, however, she has come many times, 
always joyous and carefree, painting the other world 



The Dead Are Alive 63 

in such alluring colors that I would express a desire 
to be there with her, but she would chide me saying: 

''You could be as happy there, if you only knew 
the truth." 

''Tell me all about it,'^ I would plead, but she 
would answer always the same: 

"I am not permitted," and I would wonder, and 
would almost resent her lack of frankness, as she hid 
her beautiful face behind the veil of the soul world 
and her voice was stilled. She never remained after 
she had made that answer, nor would she come if I 
called. 

As the train moved on and I sat complacently, I 
could have transplanted myself into fancy's realm 
and have been a queen holding court, so numerous 
were the beings who "waited in state," as it were, for 
my recognition, which I gave or denied as I elected. 
The greatest exclusiveness marked my attitude to- 
ward them, as I devoted myself to reasoning rather 
than audience giving. There were too many. The 
Sunday before there had been one — on this day, one 
week later, there were many and each as anxious for 
conversational recognition as the one had been! I 
had already had a week of almost sleepless nights and 
trying days and felt that I would appreciate a diminu- 
tion rather than an increase in the cause of it. I held 
the doors of my consciousness shut against any sights 
or sounds of the supernatural. At the same time I 
was wishing ardently that there was some one with 
whom I could intelligently share my secret — some 
one who could understand — some one who could 
swim in the deep waters on which I floated aimless- 
ly, tossed by the vagaries of its currents, without even 
a knowledge of its depths. 



64 How I Know That 

"La Porte," the brakeman cried, with such energy 
that it startled me almost out of the seat. 

My fiance met the train and we took a carriage 
from La Porte to Sylvan Beach, which is some dis- 
tance from the depot. Spirit entities crowded into 
the carriage, pressing perceptibly against me while 
cold touches made me shiver, but I persisted in re- 
fusing them conversational privileges. 

While we breakfasted at an al-fresco cafe on the 
beach, I could hear the word ''goodbye'' softly whis- 
pered and was curious to know why they were going 
no further with me, therefore, listened. These words 
came floating softly into my consciousness : 

"All who dwell upon the land may not tread upon 
the sea." Some were saying, "But I am going with 
you," while others were murmuring sadly "goodbye 
— goodbye." 

Once begun it was not easy to shut out the ava- 
lanche of voices that poured in upon me, but as we 
walked down the beach toward the waiting yacht I 
gradually suppressed them.. 

An hour later we were steaming over the placid 
waters of the bay, watching the sunlight make gold- 
tinted pictures on the tiny waves as they lifted their 
heads in the golden radiance. It was restfully beau- 
tiful but the calmness of the sea never appeals to me. 
I love it in its wild, tempestuous moods, when it is a 
veritable living thing in its responsiveness to the 
storm element, when to be cradled on its bosom is to 
flirt with death, the thrill of which I have known 
many times, unmixed with fear. On this occasion, 
however, there seemed a harmonious blending of its 
calmness with the rythmic coming and going of 
shadowy beings, who came on and off the boat with 
meter-like regularity, giving the impression that they 



The Dead Are Alive 65 

were entertaining guests who had come into their 
domicile. Too, they seemed to be holding high festi- 
val of some kind in which they chose to include us. 
I had little time or inclination to delve into their 
motives, as I had given a whole week of my time and 
consideration to solving problems of their manifesta- 
tions and had only this one day of my comradeship 
and companionship to give to my husband-to-be, and 
so resented any interference, regardless of its source. 

After cruising about for some time we cast anchor 
and angled with little success, tiring of which we 
cast targets and vied with each other in rifle practice. 
Although I have a medal, won by my rifle marks- 
manship, the inaccuracy of my shooting on this oc- 
casion showed the effect of the nervous strain un- 
der which I had been for the past week. I was ex- 
ceedingly proud of my reputation as a marksman, 
and having no desire to forfeit it, feigned some trivial 
indisposition, ^'headache," perhaps (although it is 
something I never really have), and withdrew from 
the contest, and when I stopped the others stopped 
also. Some of the spirit entities manifested relief, 
as the noise had seemed rather disturbing to them for 
some reason. 

After luncheon anchor was raised and we steamed 
on, headed for Houston, which was a matter of sev- 
eral hours' steady traveling. As we steamed on the 
attentions of the invisible horde did not abate nor 
were they the only intrusions upon the pleasant re- 
alities by which I was surrounded. A dream picture 
— the vision of a Paris creation — my wedding dress, 
pearls hand-embroidered on white net, over the 
softest pearl-white satin, which had come only the 
day before, kept intruding itself upon my thoughts — 
a veritable vision of loveliness. I seemed to see my- 



66 How I Know That 

self robed in its elegance, just as I had viewed myself 
the day before in the mirror with more than satisfac- 
tion. As I was hugging to myself the pleasing vision 
a voice interrupted : 

"Waste not your dreams on that dress — you will 
not be married in it." 

How preposterous! I could have laughed at the 
absurdity of it, despite all of which there was an un- 
dercurrent of apprehension, which I attempted to 
shake off and take up the golden thread of my dream 
again. 

"But the gold was out of the thread 
And lead had entered instead." 

To more effectually shake off the depression that 
seemed determined to settle down upon me I arose 
and walked about and finally requested the pilot to 
permit me to steer, which he readily did, knowing 
that I so enjoyed steering that I had practiced myself 
into efficiency. There is something fascinating about 
holding a splendid yacht in one's hands, as it were, 
beside the intelligent direction of which her great 
bulk and strength are as nothing. In about an hour, 
somewhat tired, I relinquished the wheel and sat 
down entirely relieved of the depression that had 
weighed so heavily upon me. 

"Tired?" asked my fiance in a matter-of-course 
way, and sat down beside me. 

"Just at bit," I answered, "The current is rather 
exacting today." Looking critically into the water, 
he said: 

"And so it is," and as if by mutual consent we 
lapsed into silent admiration of the glories of the set- 
ting sun, as the gold played among the luxuriant fol- 



The Dead Are Alive 67 

iage and wild flowers that grew beside the ship chan- 
nel that leads from Houston to the sea. The fragrance 
of the blooming magnolias filled the air with a sweet 
heaviness ; the birds and butterflies were singing and 
flitting everywhere with a joyousness that was con- 
tageous. 

As I gazed enraptured, with my heart in perfect ac- 
cord with nature's harmonious offering, the scene 
changed — just merged into something quite differ- 
ent. I no longer looked at trees, vines, flowers and 
flitting birds but was staring with wide open eyes, far 
out over hills and valleys unto a mountain, leading 
up the side of which was an irregular path, narrow 
but deeply cut, as by the treading of many feet and 
upon the path journeyed a lone pilgrim, trying as 
one blind, or in the darkness, to keep within the 
path, despite its wearisome irregularities. This path 
led into an immense ''Silent city of the dead," with 
its tombs and monuments gleaming white, far out 
toward the setting sun. There were many graves — 
one freshly dug and I beheld th^ lone pilgrim disap- 
pear within it and even as I looked in wonderment, 
the same being was moving out beyond it, on what 
seemed a continuation of the same path, which be- 
came deeper and whiter as it went higher and higher 
up the steep mountain side. The pilgrim went steadi- 
ly on and on, climbing higher and higher. When 
it was all but disappearing in the high, dim, dis- 
tance it faced about suddenly and dimly but dis- 
tinctly I saw — MYSELF. 

Then I was staring at the sun-kissed foliage with 
its birds, butterflies and flowers; beside me sat my 
fiance in silent admiration of the panorama that 
nature was spreading before us and in blissful ig- 
norance of the insert that had disturbed me more 



68 How I Know That 

than anything the forces of mystery had yet con- 
fronted me with. I could not move my eyes from 
the scene — a great fear held me rigid — a revolution 
raged within — I was wondering if I were mad, and 
there is no agony so poignant as the fear that the 
throne of reason is tottering in the face of one's 
recognized inability to save it. I had not only seen but 
remembered vividly every detail of that which I 
knew had no existence! I could have cried aloud in 
the very agony of it. What could it mean? What 
would be the end of it all! 

A mad impulse seized me to throw myself over- 
board and thus end the tyranny of this mysterious 
force that held me in a bondage that I could neither 
explain to myself nor to any one else and there seemed 
no escaping it. Any fate seemed preferable to mad- 
ness — the very thought was maddening. With this 
alternative uppermost in my mind I arose and walked 
to the aft of the boat, weighing the matter in all its 
phases. When this mad impulse threatened to be- 
come a tragic reality, a strong, firm hand fell upon 
my arm, sending a sensation as of an elecrtic shock 
through my entire body, rendering me so weak that 
I fell rather than sat upon a chair, and a stern voice 
was saying : 

"How cowardly — thousands have spent their lives 
working and praying for one little crumb from such 
a feast as is being served to you without the asking." 

"Why not serve it with less bitterness?" I com- 
plained. "If you would only explain things to me. 
You must know how sorely my soul is being tried." 

"The soul that is too weak to meet any demand 
made on it is unworthy of the cause that makes the 
demand." 



The Dead Are Alive 69 

''But you know what I saw does not exist," I per- 
sisted. 

*'In so far as you are concerned it does." 

''Yes, but suppose I told some one." 

"Of which there is no necessity." 

"I loathe things without rhyme or reason." 

"This is not without reason." 

Utterly weary I turned away and sighed so heavily 
that my fiance looked at me in quick surprise and 
questioned solicitously: 

"Are you not well?" 

"Perfectly," I answered, shaking ofif the lethargy 
with an effort and forcing a smile. "Such an ideal 
day we have had." 

"As all our days together are," he responded, 
smiling, as we arose and went forward where we 
stood indulging in inconsequential talk, watching the 
falling of the evening shadows, and feeling the witch- 
ery of the twilight hour, as the yacht ploughed on 
amid the soft splashing of the water. 

As we neared our destination I went down into 
the cabin to bathe my face and rescue my hair from 
its wind-tossed dishevelment. The invisibles were 
even in there manifesting themselves. I felt my- 
self immune against any surprise — feeling that the 
surprise element had been exhausted — that I had 
reached the limit, and had thereby gained a superi- 
ority to any surprise that might try to foist itself 
upon me. I remember thinking rather jocularly that 
I could look on unmoved if the yacht suddenly turned 
into Heaven or that other place, equally famous, or 
rather infamous, as a future residential section. 

Then the boat was docking and I hurried up on 
deck just in time to step off without a moment's 
waiting. 



70 How I Know That 

CHAPTER VIII. 
A CHILL-LADEN PROMISE. 

We proceeded directly to a cafe and ordered din- 
ner in accordance with the ravenous appetites the sea 
always gives — when it does not entirely destroy. 

As we ate I perceived an invisible presence be- 
side me, but as the physical was clamoring for con- 
sideration I ignored it, very much as I had done, or 
rather tried to do, during the day. But it was in- 
sistent, refusing to be ignored, manifesting its pro- 
testation by touching me, pulling my sleeve and 
whispering '^listen," until, more to relieve myself of 
its nagging than anything else, I listened with as little 
change in my outward demeanor as possible and this 
is what I heard: 

"Tell him you are going to die Tuesday night." 

The knife and fork went slowly down and re- 
mained so for a moment, then I arranged them in 
the manner that indicates the termination of a meal 
and sat back amid emotions struggling with stupe- 
faction. A more choice diminisher of appetite was 
beyond serving or conception ! 

'^So this is the solution of it all," I mused, as I 
stared at, without seeing, the unfinished meal before 
me and heard my fiance asking in surprised solici- 
tude: 

''Not finished already?" 

"Yes," and forcing a smile, added, "I was not 
nearly so hungry as I fancied." 

After looking at me critically for a moment with 
a puzzled air he proceeded with his dinner, while I 
sipped hot coffee to dissipate the cold which per- 



The Dead Are Alive 71 

meated my entire being. In a vague sort of a way I 
was looking at life from a new viewpoint — the view- 
point of leaving it. How new and strange it seemed 
— this intangible thing we call life, upon which I 
had always looked as mine — a thing I possessed, to 
use or abuse as I elected — and now it was to be re- 
moved; taken away with or without my consent by 
a force over which I had no control. Had it ever 
belonged to me — was it ever really mine, or was it 
always subject to the power that now required it? 
What is life, anyway? Suddenly life itself seemed 
to line up along with the other mysteries — the great- 
est of them all ! 

I neither feared death nor was I especially in love 
with life, the mile-posts of which had not all been 
labeled ^'Happiness," but when death, for which I 
had, at times, been guilty of wishing, stood facing 
me, ready to take me into its icy clasp and bear me 
away to some mystic realm which the pen of the 
historian had never violated — a mystery which to 
solve was to become a part of, I hesitated — ques- 
tioned it. Why had it waited until the star of love 
had arisen in the firmament of my life, illuminating 
it, making it a thing to be desired rather than toler- 
ated? 

''Are you ill?" came the anxious voice of my fiance, 
which startled me almost painfully, as with some- 
thing of an effort I replied : 

"I believe I am." 

He arose, took my arm, saying solicitously: 
"Come," to which I responded with limbs so weak 
and trembling that walking was an effort. As it was 
near train time we went directly to the depot and the 
gates being open, passed in to the train. I was glad 
to sit down but grievously distressed, as I had not. 



72 How I Know That 

as yet, summoned sufficient courage to make the dis- 
closure which I regarded as my duty to make. That 
he was recognized as one of the leading freethinkers 
in the state put the mention of the supernatural out 
of the question, thus throwing on myself the responsi- 
bility of any assertion I might make, which I re- 
solved to assume, feeling that sentiment deserved 
some consideration, for if the transition was to be 
made on Tuesday night I would not again see him 
and this would be our last goodbye and there were 
only a few minutes before the train would go. 

Finally in the most painful desperation I stam- 
mered out: 

"I am going to die Tuesday night." 

He turned upon me a most disconcerting look and 
demanded almost fiercely: 

"Nonsense — why do you say anything so unrea- 
sonable?" 

"I know it," I defended in a tone as convincing as 
I could command, yet realizing its ineffectiveness. 

"Well of all strange fancies!" he commented, glar- 
ing at me and then settled back in a grim silence that 
suggested he considered it a fancy unworthy of his 
serious consideration but sufficient for his annoyance. 

My pride resented his attitude, and having done 
my duty, as I regarded it, in the premises, I put on 
the brakes of self-control and asked with affected in- 
difference : 

"When does your train leave?" 

"Nine something," he answered abstractedly, look- 
ing straight ahead moodily, regardless of which I 
chatted on in the most commonplace way of things 
generally. Then it was time to say goodbye and I 
said it smilingly, trying to keep back the tears that 
were struggling for release. 



The Dead Are Alive 73 

"Goodbye, little girl, I hope you will feel better 
tomorrow,'' he said rather wearily and left me. A 
last goodbye and not even an apology of sentiment — 
not even an extra pressure of the hand! 

As the train moved out I was sorely depressed — the 
banks of my eyes kept overflowing with a salt mist 
over which I had no control, as I dreamed tear- 
stained dreams to the accompaniment of an aching 
heart. Possibly I was nervous and supersensitive, 
but my heart cried out for human sympathy — human 
understanding. I felt though that I had passed out 
beyond that forever — that I was a creature of an- 
other realm. 

Any storm, emotional or otherwise, must spend 
itself, and generally the more intense it is the sooner 
it is over — so it was in this instance. I seemed grad- 
ually to come back to earth and to wrap myself about 
with that indefinable foolish thing that we are so 
pleased to call ''pride," bolstered up by which I was 
becoming aggressively independent in thought, when 
Meon interrupted: 

''He is more unhappy than you are because he 
cannot understand what caused you to make such a 
startling statement." 

Someway I resented Meon's interference in a mat- 
ter so exclusively personal and replied with dismis- 
sal in my intention : 

"It was human sympathy I felt the need of — now 
I want none." 

"I understand," came softly, "you who have always 
been rather indifferent to human sympathy find it 
tonight the most desired thing on earth." 

"So it seems," I admitted rather reluctantly, as, 
with a sigh I lay back on the seat and closed my 
eyes with a feeling of being alone in the world, which 



74 How I Know That 

I indulged in its highest key, until a voice broke 
the discord : 

"When you reach Galveston go to his ofBce and 
write according to the dictation which will be given 
you." 

"Very well," I assented, wondering what other 
dreadful thing would be placed upon the already 
overburdened records of the day. I was, however, 
strangely ready to yield myself to any of its require- 
ments, as the force which impelled me was as fasci- 
nating as it was potent. 

The train being long delayed I did not reach Gal- 
veston until after ten o'clock. Upon my arrival I 
took a cab which was waiting at the curb and drove 
to the house to get the landlady and her husband to 
go with me to the office as it was entirely too late to 
go alone. 

A few minutes later we were in the office and I was 
ready to execute that which was required of me. 

After the windows were raised and fans turned on 
I sat down and began writing according to the dicta- 
tion of the voice that was to my companions inau- 
dible. I had explained to them that it was a "matter 
of business that admitted of no delay," and, no matter 
what they thought they were courteous enough to 
make no comment. The writing concerned the dis- 
posal of my personal property and personal matters 
not of interest to one not intimately concerned, there- 
fore, it is useless to inflict the reader with such de- 
tails. To me it was a very serious matter. 

As the midnight hour approached a warning voice 
came : 

"Tarry not — you will not be supported after twelve 
o'clock." I glanced at the clock — it was eleven- 
thirty. I resumed writing and continued until a 



The Dead Are Alive 75 

slight touch on the hand attracted my attention to a 
small, white, transparent hand hovering over mine, 
as in the act of removing the pen from my fingers and 
a voice was saying: 

''Mind lest you be too late." 

It was seven minutes to twelve when I arose, say- 
ing: 

"We will go now." 

The windows were lowered, the fans shut off, the 
doors locked and we started down the steps, with an 
invisible hand pressing my arm firmly, as though 
assisting me. Then I heard the clock striking, one, 
two, three — I counted mechanically, dimly realizing 
that it was twelve o'clock, the hour against which I 
had been warned but without realizing the import 
until I felt myself sinking, sinking — falling into 
space. 



76 How I Know That 

CHAPTER IX. 
AS THE FATAL NIGHT COMES AND GOES. 

What my consciousness next recorded was like 
unto a dream, vague and unrealistic — I seemed to 
hear the dearest voice in the world coming as from 
afar, and I was weary — too weary to differentiate 
between dreaming and reality. Finally my eyes 
slowly opened and dimly I could discern my fiance 
sitting near, but I could neither speak nor move. 
Noting my open eyes he came quickly to the bed and 
asked eagerly: 

"How are you, little girl?'' 

I tried but could not answer — his voice still seemed 
far away and I had the impression of having to come 
a very long distance before I could respond and so 
remained for some time until the "pressure" of dis- 
tance gave way and I could feel his warm hand 
holding my icy one, of which before I was not con- 
scious. It seemed I had just come out from under 
a great burden and a thrill of joy passed over me 
as I noted the pleasure mirrored in his face at my 
return to consciousness. I smiled with an effort and 
almost drifted out again as I was very weak and 
dominated by a sense of belonging to another world, 
the requirements of which were paramount. Thus 
for a long time I remained in semi-consciousness, 
ready to pass into another realm or remain in this 
with equal indifference — nothing seemed to matter. 
After a long time I aroused myself sufficiently to ask: 

"I thought you were going North at nine some- 
thing." 

"Your indisposition so worried me that I remained 



The Dead Are Alive 77 

over and was not surprised when the long distance 
call came for me." 

"I am glad you came," I said closing my eyes again 
too weary for further thought or conversation, but 
was conscious of an undercurrent of pleasure that he 
was there — that after all he did take what I said about 
dyir^g Tuesday night with the seriousness that I felt 
it deserved. 

All that day and night the invisibles hovered about 
me. I could feel their touches, hear their voices 
whispering softly as they came and went, touching 
my fevered brow with their cold fingers. I slept 
intermittently, my dreams were peopled with crea- 
tures of other worlds and how realistic they seemed! 

Then came Tuesday, the day of destiny, the day 
of fate, but even this mattered little, the tide was 
going out and I was drifting with it in utter disre- 
gard. 

In the evening when my beloved was leaving he 
said: 

'^Goodnight, and happy dreams — until tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow" lingered in a tantalizing way long 
after he had gone and I mentally reiterated "tomor- 
row — tomorrow," wondering vaguely what the mor- 
row would really bring, and as if a part of the half 
dream I heard Mrs. P — the landlady, telling the 
doctor over the phone that I was resting well and 
that she would call him first thing tomorrow — again 
I repeated "tomorrow — tomorrow," as though it 
were an incantation which would reveal in advance 
the hidden mysteries of the day with all of its necro- 
logical aspects in which I would be the central figure. 
It was very pleasing and I remember repeating to 
myself : 



78 How I Know That 

It seems most strange that men should fear to 
die; 
Seeing that Death, a necessary end 
Will come when it will come. 

"Please do not sit up with me, it is useless. You 
sat up all last night and I know you are tired and 
sleepy, I said to Mrs. P, as she came and sat beside 
the bed in the semi-darkness. 

"I would not think of leaving you alone as sick as 
you are — I slept a while this afternoon." 

"Come then and lie on the bed beside me — I will 
call you if need be." At first she refused, but yield- 
ed when she realized that I was determined, and 
without removing her clothing lay down beside me, 
protesting: 

"I would much rather sit up — I'm afraid I'll go 
to sleep lying down." 

"I will call you, I promise, if need be," I reas- 
sured her, for of all kind women she was the kind- 
est, and would have watched over me all night with- 
out a moment's rest, rejoicing in her ability to help 
some one who needed her — a splendid example of 
unselfishness. 

The deep quiet of the night had settled slowly 
down and I waited with a calmness that was almost 
indifference for anything that might eventuate. 

Music! just a few notes at first, then soft, mellow 
strains, so low and far away that I had to consciously 
shut out all other sounds and lift up my inner self, 
as it were, to hear, and even then it was tantalizingly 
indefinable. Little lights suggestive of miniature 
lightning flashes were coming in and going out of 
existence giving a suspicion of electricity in the at- 
mosphere. Also, there were little round lights roll- 



The Dead Are Alive 79 

ing easily about amid the usual white and color- 
tinted clouds that floated undulatingly, and emitted 
cold breaths of air, which made me shiver ever and 
anon. Caressing voices seemed to come from every- 
where as beautiful, diophanous forms passed and re- 
passed, beings which long ago my childish fancy 
would have painted ''angels," — just a dream page 
from the long-forgotten book of childhood. 

Thus half dreaming, half waking, I passed into 
the sleep from which I expected to awaken in an- 
other world (for which I was neither glad nor sor- 
ry), and which was just a drifting out beyond con- 
sciousness as an unanchored boat might drift out 
from the shore. 

The next thing I remember I was sitting bolt up- 
right in bed staring about in interrogatory wonder- 
ment — what was it that had awakened me in so 
startling a manner? The impression was that I had 
heard a most terrific blast as of a shrill whistle. A firm 
voice reminded me that I had gone to ,sleep with the 
expectation of awakening in another realm: 

''Fanny, are you ready to come?" 

"I am," I replied in perfect confidence as I settled 
myself back on the pillows which Mrs. P had re- 
adjusted, she having been awakened by my sudden 
springing up. To her inquiry as to what the matter 
was, I replied: 

"Dreaming, I presume," which seemed to satisfy 
her, as she resumed her place beside me and I gave 
my attention to the presence whom I felt had come 
concerning that to which all roads in life lead — death. 

"Are you not over-confident?" came an unexpected 
query. 

"I think not — I am perfectly resigned." 



8o How I Know That 

"Suppose that to be one of the least of the require- 
ments?" 

"I have taken little thought as to what might or 
might not be required of me. I was told that I would 
die tonight and feel that I am ready to do so," I re- 
plied, somewhat defensively, as I began to wonder 
if, after all, there were exactions from the other 
world before beings of this could pass into it with 
advantage to themselves. 

I listened eagerly for a reply but none came; in- 
stead a chilly silence, painful in its intensity, seemed 
to permeate everything. There was something of 
apprehensive bitterness in my heart as I waited un- 
til I became weary of waiting, calling vainly into 
the dark silence for the messenger whom I felt need- 
lessly delayed his coming. 

Then the voice came so suddenly it startled me : 

"So you are positive you are ready to come?" 

"I think so — doubtless you know," with rising sar- 
casm. 

"I do," came the decisive answer — then slowly and 
impressively, ''know that you are not/' 

"I was told that I was to die tonight," I reminded, 
feeling that some defense was necessary. 

"Are there no other Tuesday nights?" 

"Yes," I admitted, realizing with disappointment 
that I had erred in accepting this night as the one 
intended. Orthodox religious teachings to the con- 
trary, I had never seriously considered the necessity 
of making preparations for an entry into the life or 
condition beyond what we term "death," and I failed 
to understand why I should be detained in this phase 
of life when I felt willing and ready to pass beyond 
it. After considering the matter a few minutes and 



The Dead Are Alive 8i 

casually reviewing my past life, from which no 
crimes sprang up to accuse me, I asked: 

'^Would you mind indicating some of the offenses 
which delay me here?" 

'Tractically all the crimes and oflfenses in the 
world can be covered by one little word — selfishness.'^ 

"Surely you do not insinuate that I am selfish. I 
have always considered myself quite generous." 

"There is no virtue in generosity to those whom 
we love or those to whom it is due, but to those who 
need our generosity." And the voice trailed off into 
a sadness that touched a vulnerable spot somewhere 
within me and I shrank in a self-condemnatory way, 
for I remembered that I had been rather remiss in 
considering those in life less fortunate than myself; 
the fact that I could trace my ancestry back to when 
the centuries were few had always appealed to me 
much more strongly than that which today I know 
is the greatest possibility and privilege of humanity 
— the brotherhood of man. I needed no accuser; my 
own conscience was sufficient and made me intensely 
uncomfortable, as I thought of the many good deeds 
I might have done and didn't. Vain regret is not 
a desirable companion when Azrael stands beside 
the bed. 

It isn't the things you do, dear. 
Its the things you leave undone 

That gives you the bit of heartache 
At the setting of the sun. 

Then came a question more disconcerning than all 
things else: 

"What of your free-thinking?" 

"I was — er — but," I began floundering under the 



82 How I Know That 

weight of self condemnation, "but, now I know dif- 
ferent." 

''Rather late, is it not?" 

"So it is," I admitted, and an awful agonizing mo- 
ment passed before the voice came again: 

"That is not so bad. Thought is as much a matter 
of evolution as anything else — in fact more so. The 
truth which is to liberate the world is actually wait- 
ing upon thought evolution." 

A great joyousness flooded my soul — had I heard 
aright? That there was no condemnation for me 
who had dared to say to God, "If there be a God — if 
there be a hereafter — I demand some tangible evi- 
dence." The evidence had certainly been given and 
yet such a demand required no retribution!! It 
seemed incredible — but what was the meaning of 
"truth waiting upon thought evolution to liberate the 
world?" I had waded out into very deep water and 
the only refuge I had was the return to my mental 
attitude of chafing because I had to wait at least 
another week to solve the mystery of mysteries, feel- 
ing that if "free-thinking" was no offense I had com- 
mitted no others and my soul was crying out "why 
not tonight?" 

"When you understand you will be thankful that 
there are other Tuesday nights," came the voice sol- 
emnly, but I could not bring myself to feel thankful 
for that which seemed to me so depressingly un- 
necessary. In the heaviness of disappointment sleep 
began "weighing my eyelids down," but just as I 
was crossing the mystic bridge between sleeping and 
waking, the voice called me back with a question so 
seemingly frivolous that I fancied I had not heard 
aright — it was repeated : 



The Dead Are Alive 83 

"If you gave a box party at the theatre would you 
go as you are or would you dress for the occasion?" 

''Dress for the occasion, of course," I made answer 
promptly, wondering what spirits had to do with 
theatres and vice versa. 

"Yet you would permit your soul to enter into a far 
greater throng inappropriately clad?" 

"I do not know how a soul should be clothed," I 
replied after a moment's hesitation, then added ir- 
relevantly, "We have no soul-tailors on earth." 

"Each soul is its own tailor — the garments are of 
the soul's own weaving," came solemnly. 

"Are they hard to make?" I asked, half derisively. 

"That depends on the soul to be fitted." 

"Mine, for instance," I persisted irreverently, sup- 
pressing a perverse amusement, which was doubt- 
less as foolish as it was ill-timed. 

"Permit me to suggest that this is a very serious 
matter — certainly not one for your amusement," came 
the voice in cold, stern rebuke, which sobered me so 
suddenly that it seemed to blast all humor out of my 
system for all time. 

"Forgive me, please — my disappointment at re- 
maining on earth after I was so sure of leaving it is 
the only defense I have to offer for my rudeness," I 
pleaded, a deep penitence spreading over me as I 
realized that subconsciously I was exercising the re- 
resentment I felt for being alive after the hour in 
which I expected transition had come and gone. 

The voice came gently : 

"That is well; now we can take up the subject 
with the seriousness it demands." 

"I am listening," I said meekly, settling down to 
the seriousness I felt was required of me (and it was 
no pretense). I had had my lesson. 



84 How I Know That 

"No error," began the voice, clear and soft, "must 
enter into the weaving of such garments — one false 
thread and the weaving must all be done over again 
and thus cycles of time are wasted — the goal is per- 
fection." 

"I will abide by your instructions." 

"The simplicity of which will doubtless disappoint 
you, but remember ^he who is faithful in little will 
be faithful in rrtuch' — the little things of everyday 
life are really the great things — the soul tests." 

"I pledge my faith in all things great and small," 
I made avowal and my soul was strong in the prom- 
ise of fulfillment. 

"A pledge cannot be violated — it were better had 
you made no pledge, but having made it you must 
abide thereby." 

"I intend to." 

That the requirements, according to our mundane 
conceptions, were not elaborate, we must admit, as 
they are practically covered by the following, to-wit: 

(i) The Golden Rule (the law of action). 

(2) Unselfish, helpful love, embracing all living 
things (the law of sentiment). 

(3) A recognition of oneness with Infinity, in all 
the word implies (embracing all mankind) 
(the law of Divinity). 

Then followed what one might call personal in- 
structions. A daily bath was a requirement which 
admitted of no interference; moderation and self 
control in all things and under all conditions; pure- 
ness of thought; truthfulness of tongue, serenity of 
mind. Patience and endurance were impressed as 



The Dead Are Alive 85 

virtues everlasting. A ready willingness to pass from 
this life into the next as though it were but a con- 
scious continuation of this in a higher, better sense 
was the last injunction. It was impressed upon me 
that the earth-life, lived in accordance with the fore- 
going, breeds no complications in the Hereafter for 
there are no chains binding us to our previous actions. 

I considered all that had been said to me very 
seriously and reviewed it carefully in my mind, tabu- 
lating it mentally that no omission might creep in. 
As I did so a few bars of music struck in almost ab- 
ruptly and as it toned down softly, a voice which 
seemed far away, floated back in weird impressive- 
ness : 

"Oh, weaver of thy freedom, be faithful." 

I shivered a bit, and moved restlessly, as the words 
seemed to come down and cover me with a responsi- 
bility that was ''closer than hands and feet" — an in- 
escapable thing. As though taking hold of a piece 
of dynamite I repeated cautiously and carefully — 
"Oh, weaver of thy freedom, be faithful," and as if 
it required a renewal of my pledge, in all serious- 
ness my soul again made the promise, "I will be 
faithful in all things." Then the very air seemed 
charged with something not of earth and I was in- 
finitely happy, as though I were equal to any re- 
sponsibility laid upon me, regardless of what it was, 
recognizing no impossibilities. 

Perhaps I should write more fully of that night's 
unfoldments and revelations of strange, weird, unex- 
plainable things which filled it to overflowing, but I 
hesitate to tax, too far, the credulity of those who 
read with the hope and purpose of gleaning a little 
ray of light on a subject which is, unfortunately, 
shrouded in an obscurity which can be illuminated 



86 How I Know That 

only by its own light — each human being must know 
for himself. My knowledge can help no one ; it can 
only induce persons to investigate for themselves. 

Suffice it to say it was an experience — a night — I 
would not care to duplicate nor would I care to ob- 
literate. No matter what it may have given or taken, 
I came from under the darkness of it with a knowl- 
edge that while there are invisible entities of love and 
beauty touching intimately our mundane existence 
there are also, touching as intimately, entities of the 
opposite tendencies. 

After the many lessons of the night had been, at 
least in part, assimilated, and the room grew gray- 
tinted with the dawn, there passed in review beings 
which seemed expressions of the different cycles of 
existence. After various manifestations, there were 
materialized human beings, which disappeared only 
to reappear in phantom forms, then came the light- 
emitting, mist-shrouded creatures of perfection, so 
beautiful and weird it was like unto a dream, follow- 
ing which circling little lights appeared within what 
seemed a powerful, electrified light that flooded 
everything, embraced everything, scintillating with 
color and brilliancy — of which I seemed a part in 
veritable, uplifting joyousness. 

Slowly it all faded out and then there came a few 
minutes of breathless suspense, lest beings of oppo- 
site tendencies should feel called upon to disport 
themselves in parade, but to my infinite relief they 
did not — daylight flooded the room instead — the day- 
light that mocked me for being alive and seemed to 
demand an apology that my earthly existence dared 
intrude itself upon its light. 

Yes, the day had come and I looked out upon a 



The Dead Are Alive 87 

world that was as changed, in so far as I was con- 
cerned, as though I had in reality passed into the 
beyond ; I realized then it would never be the same 
old world to me again — and it never has been. 



88 How I Know That 



CHAPTER X. 



WEAVING TANGLED THREADS OF 
MYSTERY. 

As the day wore on the bathing proposition came 
squarely before me, but I was so weak it seemed im- 
possible to get out of bed, to say nothing of indulging 
in such exercise. However, after I had argued it out 
with myself and felt justified in refraining, that 
weird sentence floated back in a tantalizing way — 
^'Oh, weaver of thy freedom, be faithful," and the 
echo of my promise, ''I will be faithful," mocked me 
with the realization that my ^^faithfulness" had be- 
come a shrinking thing in the presence of the first de- 
mand made upon it. Then I determined to bathe 
regardless of consequences. 

It was well into the afternoon before this unex- 
pected determination floated into speech, which 
brought forth the storm of protest I expected. 
While I realized how unreasonable my act must ap- 
pear to those who could not understand, I was none 
the less determined upon its execution — if my 
strength permitted, which I really doubted. After 
arguing for some time, putting forth every reason, 
except the real one, why I should bathe, the point 
was yielded to me, with much misgiving in which I 
confess I secretly shared. 

After a few minutes I arose, at first in bed, then 
on the bed side, where I remained for some time 
weak and trembling, the object of Mrs. P's kind but 
most disapproving contemplation. 

Then, with a supreme effort I rose to my feet ex- 
pecting my weight to bear me down to the floor, but 



The Dead Are Alive 89 

instead there seemed no weight. A force, suggestive 
of strong hands, held me so lightly that the act of 
walking was like treading on air and the putting of 
one foot before the other merely mechanical. This 
strength which came to me as a thing apart, yet mine 
to use, remained with me throughout the bath and 
until I returned to bed, where the weakness and 
weariness came upon me as before. Yet an under- 
current of exhilaration remained until long after. 

That was rather an unusual bath in more ways than 
one. When the water was turned on it came with a 
''sizzling" sound, which I could hear through the 
open door between my bedroom and bathroom before 
going in. I paid very little attention to it but fancy 
my surprise when I stepped into it, expecting it to be 
cold and found it almost uncomfortably hot! 

I came near jumping out so unexpected was the 
shock. I never use warm or hot baths (except the 
Turkish), therefore there was no connection nor 
provision made for heating the. water, rendering it 
impossible for the water to have been heated without 
my knowledge, nor was this the only time the water 
was heated by the same process. No explanation was 
made as to the modus operandi of the heating. Of 
course, we all know a sub-normal temperature pro- 
duces the illusion of heat but what about the "sizz- 
ling" sound? Of course, some of our orthodox 
friends may suggest my proximity to a locality where 
such conditions prevail as a natural sequence, but, as 
I am leaving much of what I am writing to the 
construction of any one who cares to assume the re- 
sponsibility, I will not attempt an explanation where 
none has been given to me, feeling that every human 
being has as much right to his or her opinions as I 
have to mine. I am simply relating these incidents. 



90 How I Know That 

as they came to me, painfully personal though they 
are, because that which gave them to me insists that 
they were not given for me alone, so I am just passing 
them along so others may know that these mani- 
festations are possible for all who care to investigate 
for themselves, and abide by the requirements. 

How changed the whole world seemed! Instead 
of joyous anticipation at the coming of my Beloved 
in the evening I dreaded his coming with a guilty 
sense of deception, feeling that I would rather have 
died any death than to have lived to face him, a 
living exemplification of prevarication, illusion, 
madness or what not. Yet when he came my unrest 
vanished before the frank joyousness of his smile, 
which said, plainer than words, how pleased he was 
that the night had passed without taking me with it. 
I so wanted to explain to him — tell him just how it 
was, but he was a free-thinker and not believing, 
would not understand; so, perforce, I refrained, 
leaving him to place his own construction on it — he 
made no reference to it nor did I. 

As the days went on I took my baths without in- 
terference as their strength-giving and refreshing ef- 
fect was patent to all, for which I was very grateful, 
as the baths gave many delightful diversions. In- 
visible hands would sometimes playfully dash the 
water over me, even into my face and over my hair, 
laughing the while in a light, mirthful way, while 
glimpses of faces came and went, ever changing; and 
cold breezes would persist until I would come out of 
the water shivering, as light-hearted and carefree as 
a child at play. The impression was always that of 
children or fairies at play, in which I believed as a 
child, and I remember wondering if some such ex- 
perience as this had not given rise to these wonder- 



The Dead Are Alive 91 

ful stories which are so appealing and fascinating to 
the childish imagination — who knows? 

Then dawned another Tuesday. A cloudy, rainy 
day; but to me it was very beautiful, as I awaited the 
coming of the night as the fulfillment of the promise 
for which I had worked and waited with a purpose 
and patience that was new to my nature. 

As the night came down the very atmosphere 
seemed glorified, seemed to caress me, and my whole 
being breathed responsiveness, as I waited in absolute 
certainty for that which long delayed its coming — 
for that which came not. How endless the night 
seemed as I lay awake quivering with expectancy, 
counting every hour as the clock struck, feeling that 
when it struck again I would not be there to count. 
Still I waited — waited for the call for which I felt 
myself ready in every way — just waited until the 
dawn came and then the sunrise. It is much to re- 
alize just how blank and empty life can really be. It 
seemed utterly impossible to take up the burden again 
— to act in accordance with the persistent require- 
ments which my promise of ^^faithfulness" involved. 
The temptation to denounce it all was strong upon 
me — it seemed some hallucination or delusion was 
chaining me to itself — that I had to free myself of it 
and I would! Rash were the resolves I made and 
meant to abide by! Chief among these was, that I 
would get up out of bed, that I would never listen 
to another voice and never do another thing that was 
included in my promise of "faithfulness." 

This inharmonious mood lasted until well into the 
afternoon — until time for the bath, which I had 
promised myself, in all seriousness, that I would not 
take. Then the feeling of uneasiness — the sensation 
of something important being left undone, began 



92 How I Know That 

tantalizing me. As I was trying to be firm in my 
resistance, I could feel hands pushed under between 
me and the mattress, impelling me upward, as though 
suggesting that I get up. This made me more de- 
termined that ever in my resistance — I simply had 
had enough of having my seriousness trifled with! 
Suddenly something lifted me up, as though I were 
a feather, and stood me with emphasis on the floor. 
In obedience to it I marched into the bathroom and 
stepped into the tub. I had passed again under the 
dominance of that mysterious force from which there 
seemed to be no escape — and the strangest part was 
that while really under it there was no desire to have 
it otherwise. As I had said I would not bathe there 
was no water turned on, so I took the hose which I 
attached and used in preference to the regular spray, 
as it shared less of the bath with the floor, and pro- 
ceeded. As I sat with the water pouring over me, my 
attention was attracted to something moving at the 
point where the hose ejected the water. I looked at 
it closely but could see nothing but a miniature reflec- 
tion of my face — what any one would see — and pro- 
ceeded with the ''showering," but the attraction in- 
creased with such absorbing insistence that I again 
took the hose firmly in my hand and held it near my 
eyes with the same result, only to have the same irre- 
sistible attraction hold me when I began bathing 
again. This time I held it up with the resolve that 
I would either allay its disturbing attractiveness or 
leave the bath, feeling that possibly this mode of 
bathing was not entirely in favor with that under 
whose direction it was being taken and this was be- 
ing done to cause me to change it; and not having 
altogether recovered from my attack of disobedience, 
I did not care especially whether it pleased or not. 



The Dead Are Alive 93 

Yes, there was the miniature reflection of my face in 
the water — but there was something else. Reflected 
above the head was something white, which upon 
close scrutiny appeared as a scroll in the process of 
folding and unfolding. Suspended from it, hang- 
ing directly (reflected) in front of my face, parallel 
with my mouth was a perfectly round, black ball 
about two inches in diameter, jumping as though 
suspended by a rubber cord. As I viewed it in as- 
tonishment, a voice said: 

^ When it touches your mouth you will die." 
This extraordinary statement shocked me for a 
moment, but inspired by its potentiality I sat before 
it, expecting that any moment might bring the col- 
lision, which I had neither the power nor the wish to 
avoid. The ball swayed back and forth all but touch- 
ing me, bounding lightly away only to repeat the 
performance, while I watched it eagerly for some 
time, until I again felt that my seriousness was being 
trifled with and left the bath with something akin to 
resentment in my heart — I was terribly unhappy. 

The reflection of that white, ever folding and un- 
folding scroll, with the little bounding black ball, was 
the most persistent of all the phenomena that came 
to me, and really uninteresting after the first few 
times. It was often reflected in water or wine as I 
turned the glass up to drink, nearly always at the end 
of the hose as I bathed; when looking in a mirror it 
was as distinctly discernible as my face. However, 
I never saw it except as a reflection in which my face 
shared. Rarely a day passed that I did not see it in 
some form, yet the scroll never quite unwound nor 
did the little ball, as near as it came, ever touch my 
mouth. What purpose it served I do not know, un- 
less it was to keep the consciousness of approaching 



94 How I Know That 

death ever in my mind, which, at that time, seemed 
the necessary condition, rendering me receptive to 
what subsequently followed. 

As the days went on I grew no better — no worse — 
just remained at the dead level of monotony — fever 
fluctuating around a half degree when the tempera- 
ture was not subnormal. I realized that I was not 
sick in the generally accepted term but at times I 
was so weak I could hardly raise my hands. My 
limbs, hands, arms, and sometimes my entire body 
would have a feeling of numbness such as when one's 
foot "goes to sleep" as the children say. Nothing 
strengthened me, although I took the medicines pre- 
scribed by the doctors, rigidly — I wont say uncom- 
plainingly. I tried to do everything that was re- 
quired of me by the material as well as spiritual 
forces, which clashed, at times, very disagreeably. 

There seemed a force greater than the most potent 
medicines holding me in just the condition that best 
served the purpose of these manifestations. I seemed 
an intermundane creature, suspended, as it were, be- 
tween life and so-called death — a receiving station — 
a creature of both worlds, yet of neither, and reader, 
please don't envy me. 

Voices would come prognosticating things that did 
not eventuate, telling strange, weird and wonderful 
stories, all of which I, at first, believed. Then a new 
strength grew up within me — discrimination — mak- 
ing my perception so strong that I could not only 
discriminate between the voices of truth and decep- 
tion but could feel the approach of an undesirable 
presence, which I met with the command "depart," 
and in no sense was this command violated. How- 
ever, in a few instances the presence would stop and 
plead to be permitted to come nearer, as though it 



The Dead Are Alive 95 

could be greatly helped thereby — but that "still small 
voice" within permitted no such intimacies. 

When I had become what one might term superior 
to these deceptions there were great demonstrations 
of joy in the spirit world as though I had made a 
great advance — as though I had won a hard fought 
battle. I shared in these rejoicings ; feeling that per- 
haps this was my passport to that ''far country" into 
which my entry had been so grievously delayed ; and 
half expecting to enter then and there, while the soft 
music fell upon me like a benediction. 

Then the voices, the rejoicings, the music ceased 
and I waited — just waited on the ragged edge of 
quivering expectancy in the stillness of the night. 



96 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XI. 
THE CHOIR INVISIBLE. 

The best music is not complete — it ever suggests something 
beyond — it is only a symbol of a spiritual condition which we 
seek to attain. 

B^ETHOVE^N. 

I was so depressed, weak and listless the next day 
that despite my protestations a trained nurse was in- 
stalled. From the beginning it was one of the doc- 
tor's recommendations that I refused to comply with, 
feeling in advance resentment for the constant pres- 
ence of a human being who might interfere with my 
companionable relations with the beings of the shad- 
ow realms, which I preferred to the mundane, feeling 
that I belonged more to the other side of life than 
to this. But really her presence made little or no 
difference, as she could not see what I saw nor hear 
what I heard — she was not a ^'receiving station," 
therefore could not be brought into conscious con- 
tact with the finer forces. Nevertheless I resented 
her and was not altogether careful about conceal- 
ing it. Her respect for duty was most abnormal- 
ly developed as she administered according to the 
doctor's directions with an insistence that pre- 
cluded the omission of a single pill. I stoically took 
her doses just as I did the attentions which she 
felt it was her duty to bestow, and I always added 
a few drops of that insidious soul poison — self-pity. 

My little dog shared my resentment at her coming 
to such an extent that he had to be sent away and 
given into the care of a friend, where he had every 
care and comfort and was brought for a daily visit 



The Dead Are Alive 97 

to me, at which times he was either joyous in his 
demonstrations or would not come near me, evi- 
dencing a fear that made him very cautious in 
even wagging his tail at a safe distance. Some- 
times, forgetful of caution he would run and 
jump on the bed, but when he noted the object of his 
disapproval he would hurriedly leap off and either 
go under the bed or to the farthest corner of the 
room, leaving no question as to his ability to see and 
understand that which to mortal senses was not dis- 
cernible. He seemed to be the only thing in the 
world that understood, yet he denied me the sym- 
pathy of his understanding. 

I was not long in realizing that I was violating one 
of the strictest injunctions of my promise of ^'faith- 
fulness" in mental attitude where the nurse was con- 
cerned, and made amends accordingly, which gave 
me the sensation of another victory Won, in which 
the invisible forces made their approval felt. 

It was a calm, still moonlit night — the kind that 
seems to call one to come out under the stars and just 
weave dreams in harmony with its tenderness and 
beauty. I had fallen under the spell of it and was 
just listlessly dreaming — half thinking. It seemed I 
had attained a fuller sense of harmony with the high- 
er forces — that in some way I was lifted up to a 
higher consciousness than I had before realized — to a 
different vibration. Soft, quivering, indefinable life 
seemed to interpenetrate the atmosphere with the 
suggestion as of soundless music and a subnormal 
stillness was upon everything, as I lay in happy rest- 
fulness within it. Then suddenly there burst on the 
stillness music the like of which I had never heard — 
the whole invisible world seemed a gigantic orches- 
tra, yet there was something so soft about the music 



98 How I Know That 

that breathing sounded above it as a profane thing in 
that ethereal atmosphere. It was spontaneous ; music 
without the sound of the instrument, voices without 
the effort of production, just concentrated harmony 
sinking into the soul, touching a chord so responsive 
that it seemed a soul communion rather than a thing 
apart — the real music of which the mundane is only 
a shadow. 

I had never before heard anything so wonderful as 
on this occasion although it was really not my first 
audience to the "Choir Invisible." I remember some 
years ago I was very ill with measles complicated by 
pneumonia — a necrological combination, at best, es- 
pecially so, as I was no longer a child. All hope of 
recovery had been abandoned by my father and the 
physician who sat through the "night watches," hop- 
ing against hope. 

It was a cold January night and a blizzard, ac- 
companied by sleet and snow, was wildly sweeping 
the country and howling uproariously. I was sup- 
posed to be unconscious, but I heard the wind as it 
whistled, shrieked and drove against the shutters, yet 
above all, soft, zephyr-like music was as perceptible 
and distinct as though nothing broke the stillness. 
Even now I remember the very tunes and have often 
tried to "cage" them on the piano, but when I seek 
most ardently they elude me most effectively. 

All night long the duet of music and storm played 
on — one raging in its fury — the other soft as the 
silence, yet each distinctly audible. 

When the night was all but giving way to day the 
doctor felt my pulse, professionally at first, then 
eagerly, motioning to my father to come nearer, 
which he did, waiting for the verdict. One long 
minute they stood both eagerly watching my face. 



The Dead Are Alive 99 

^'She will live," said the doctor solemnly, turning 
to my father, who replied ardently: 

^'Thank God," as my eyes opened in perfect con- 
sciousness and I murmured ''Such music — such mu- 
sic," which caused my father to look disappointed, as 
he considered me delirious, but the doctor reassured 
him: 

''That is not unusual in her condition." 

No one seemed to understand when I made refer- 
ence to the music I had heard so I gradually re- 
frained from speaking of it, storing it away in 
the casket of sweet, sacred memories where it has 
since remained. Yet compared to the music I had 
just heard it seemed so insignificant, it was hardly 
worth remembering — it was like the sun shutting out 
the brilliance of the stars. I fully realize that to one 
who does not understand, this music is a mystical un- 
reality, but to the person hearing it it is more than 
real. 

On waking in the morning I was possessed with an 
almost uncontrollable desire to share my knowledge 
of the existence of such music. I wanted to tell some 
one about it; it was too wonderful a thing to be selfish 
about. The constraint which advisability placed up- 
on me made me so unhappy that, in my heart, I cried 
out against the force that held my soul in one world 
and left my body in the other, a creature of the earth 
life, a part of it and apart from it. While I did not 
fail to realize that "in this great moral conflict we 
must go forth alone," I also realized that it was a 
grand sentiment but a dreary practice. I deplored 
being hedged in, as it were, by the materialism of the 
spiritually blind that surrounded me — feeling that 
there must be some one, somewhere, who could un- 



lOO How I Know That 

derstand, but such an one seemed not amongst my 
acquaintances. 

I wished my fiance was less dogmatic on the sub- 
ject — but to mention it in his presence was like touch- 
ing a match to a powder magazine. While I deplored 
this I tried to be reasonable and did not resent it, as 
I knew if conditions were reversed and, in the days 
of my materialism, he had come to me with such 
stories I fear my toleration would not have been so 
elastic as his had proven itself. At times, however, 
I brooded over the conviction that, had he chosen he 
could have enlightened me on the subject, or at least 
its theories, as I recalled having heard him relate, 
in derision, incidents of what he termed '^spiritual- 
istic phenomena." Knowing nothing of the subject, 
it never especially appealed to me and rather sub- 
consciously I assumed his attitude toward it. All re- 
ligions were alike to us — ''the metaphysics of the 
masses," as Schopenhauer puts it. But now how dif- 
ferent! I knew I had heard music not of the earth 
but who would believe it! Then I wrestled with 
self-pity, feeling that I was alone ; that alone I drifted 
on the relentless seas of other realms to sink or swim 
as my own strength might determine. This was 
really not very far from the truth, but it is not nearly 
so tragic as it then seemed. 

While in this unenviable frame of mind, a friend, 
Mrs. S, came in, and I was more than glad to see 
her as she is of that rare companionable temperament 
whose very presence exudes sympathetic understand- 
ing. With a cheery "How are you, dear?" she came 
directly to the bed and sat down beside me. Demon- 
strating my pleasure at her coming, I laid my hand 
caressingly on her arm. In an instant a strong force, 



The Dead Are Alive loi 

as of an invisible hand, pressed mine down on her 
arm with such emphasis that it was perceived by her. 
We looked at each other with understanding and then 
spoke freely of that which had long been calling for 
human understanding. She did not seem to regard 
my experiences as especially wonderful or unreason- 
able, and, above all, she did not glare at me as though 
she considered me quite mad, for which I covered her 
with the mantle of my gratitude and pulled her face 
down to mine and kissed it, as the invisible forces 
began clattering away on the metal bedstead as 
though it were a telegraph battery. Looking at me, 
smilingly she said: ^'I hear them," as she arose to 
give place to newly arrived visitors, who could not 
see, feel, hear or understand, and looked at her 
strangely when she shivered and said, "It is like cold 
storage in here — Fm freezing." While perspiring 
and fanning themselves they started an argument 
about the heat of the day, suggesting that she must be 
ill to feel cold in such torrid weather. I paid the 
newly arrived guests little attention ; I was reveling in 
the satisfaction of having heard at least one human 
being admit the existence of "spirits," as she termed 
them. It is impossible to conceive what this little 
grain of sympathy and understanding meant to one so 
utterly deprived of both. 

In the evening when my fiance came he was de- 
lighted that my condition was so improved and fore- 
saw that I would be well in a few days if such im- 
provement continued. I refrained from mentioning 
the cause but assured him that I was feeling splendid- 
ly, and we chatted unreservedly of things that sug- 
gested themselves without intruding upon the sub- 
ject that had come like the serpent in Eden, and im- 
parted to me wisdom of which he knew nothing, and 



I02 How I Know That 

which formed a kind of intangible barrier that both 
recognized silently and tried to ignore. 

In the presence of his love and solicitude I would 
forget that I had afEanced myself to death — that I 
belonged to another world. When he was with me 
the touch of his hand, the radiating aura of his love, 
his magnetism, made me want to live and love and 
sing with him always beside me — "we, two, together," 
but when he went away, lacking the magnetism of 
his presence I would again fall under the domina- 
tion of the force that held me in willing readiness 
to pass beyond this realm. Listening to the "choir 
invisible," my soul would lift above the mundane 
and I would close my eyes in anguish at the delay, as 
a bride might whose bridegroom delayed his coming. 



The Dead Are Alive 103 

CHAPTER XII. 
DEFINING SOUL AND BODY. 

"And there are diversities of operations hut it is the same 
God that worketh all in all. 

"But the manifestation of the spirit is given to every m^n 
to profit withal. 

"For to one is given by the spirit the word of wisdom, to 
another, the word of knowledge by the same spirit. 

"To another the working of miracles; to another prophecy; 
to another discerning of spirits; to another, divers kinds of 
tongues; to another, the interpretation of tongues; 

"But all this worketh that one and the selfsame spirit, di- 
viding to every man severally as he will." 

FIRST CORINTHIANS — 12; 6 tO II. 

I could not sleep, so heavily did depression weigh 
upon me. I was tired of waiting and there was re- 
volt in my soul against what seemed trivial require- 
ments and needless delay. A reproving voice intrud- 
ed itself into my rebellious consciousness : 

'Why do you permit such thoughts to dominate 
you?" 

''I am tired of life and everything in it," I replied, 
as petulantly as I felt. 

"Everytime you fall into such vibrations you move 
the time of your release further away." 

''Well, I'll just live then," I snapped. "I am 
ready and willing to die, but I shall not remain here 
forever waiting to do so. I shall get up tomorrow 
and try to forget that I was ever identified with such 
a torturing mystery." 



I04 How I Know That 

^'Hush, child, you know not of what you speak." 

^'Then why don't you explain it to me instead of 
leaving me harassed by uncertainty and torn by its 
attending tortures?" 

"To know life you must live — to know death you 
must die." 

*^But there is no death," I insisted. 

"It is the name by which the birth into the higher 
life — the real life — is recognized." 

"Tell me about it, wont you?" I pleaded with new 
interest. 

"To know death you must die," repeated the voice 
so impressively that a shiver ran over me, for the 
very presence of death seemed in the room, as with 
awe I listened for the voice to further enlighten me 
concerning "Death, the hidden, dark way between 
the threshold and the light." Instead I heard the 
night birds singing and crickets chirping in a dis- 
mal sort of way, and realizing that the interview was 
over I repeated dreamily to myself, trying to realize 
its import: "To know death you must die." 

The next morning I was awakened by a magnifi- 
cent rendition from II Trovatore in Italian. So 
natural did it seem that I looked about the room half 
expecting to see the singer, but the song ended al- 
most before I could appreciate the beauty of it. I 
listened a long time, hoping for its return but it had 
not come when my attention was diverted by the 
arrival from Dallas of an immense express package 
which proved to be roses and ferns sufficient to deco- 
rate a banquet hall. 

With gratitude to the sender for thus indulging 
my love for flowers, I had the box put on the bed 
so I could help take them out and arrange them as 
fancy might dictate. With this end in view I had 



The Dead Are Alive 105 

all my vases, some rare and beautiful, brought and 
placed in waiting for the floral burden. Pedestals, 
impromptu and otherwise, were arranged about the 
room. Statues were removed to give place to flower- 
laden vases — even the jardiniers were filled to over- 
flowing. 

All day long I reveled in this gift from nature's 
storehouse of loveliness and when the night came 
^^the scent of the sleeping roses" mingled their fra- 
grance with my dreams. 

Suddenly I was awakened — wide awake without 
any apparent cause. After listening for a few min- 
utes into the "silence" without hearing anything I 
looked about but could see nothing and decided that 
I had only awakened just as any one might. After 
breathing deeply of the scent of the roses I would 
have slept again but a voice which seemed nearer than 
usual said firmly: 

''Arise and move that table to your bedside." 

I heard but doubted the evidence of my hearing, as 
the onyx table alone was beyond the capacity of my 
strength but now that it was heavily laden with vases 
filled with flowers it was not to be considered. To 
move it w^ould be to break the vases and my mind's 
ears seemed to hear in advance the crash that would 
arouse the "dragon" (nurse) and what a time I would 
have explaining to her! 

Thus hesitating I remained in bed in a semi-re- 
clining position, resting on one elbow, looking hope- 
lessly toward the table and then at the face of the 
sleeping nurse, whom I could not see very well. The 
sound of her deep, regular breathing, however, was 
more reassuring than the sight of her face would 
have been. 

Reluctantly obeying a force that was stronger than 



io6 How I Know That 

my inclination to disobey, I arose cautiously creep- 
ing on tiptoe to the table with fear and trembling 
for the lives of my vases and thinking of the humilia- 
tion to myself when the nurse should arise in the 
execution of her duty. 

I stood for a moment beside the table, tears welling 
up into my eyes at the tyranny of a force that not 
only compelled me to attempt the impossible but to 
destroy my treasured vases which held the fragrant 
offering that had come to gladden my tired senses. 
While thus hesitating, I could feel the force pressing 
me, very pronouncedly, bearing heavily upon me, 
pushing me nearer and nearer the table until I 
touched it with my body. Then in the desperation of 
accepting the inevitable, I placed both hands upon its 
sides, testing it for the safest and most effective hold. 
To my surprise as well as relief, it lifted lightly and 
floated gently to the bedside without disarranging as 
much as a rose, leaving me standing in amazement just 
where I had stood when I placed my hands upon it, 
and too much relieved that no harm had come to the 
vases to fully appreciate the wonder of the perform- 
ance. 

After standing in petrified amazement for some 
minutes with my eyes fixed upon the table, I slowly 
walked over and again stood by it and being very, 
weak, put one hand on it to steady myself, but quickly 
removed it, as there was a distinct shock as of elec- 
tricity, which caused me to refrain from further 
direct contact with it. 

A voice came in a tone deep with seriousness : 

'' Choose a red rose and white one — the red one 
you will hold in your right hand, the white in your 
left." This I did and the voice commanded, ''Now 
get into bed." 



The Dead Are Alive 107 

Obedience was never one of my virtues, even as a 
child, and I resented its exactions upon any circum- 
stances, therefore, I got into the bed slowly, deliber- 
ately, arranging my pillows with exaggerated pre- 
cision despite the roses in my hands, feeling that I 
should be requested to do these things, not command- 
ed. Finally I lay down with a red rose crushed in 
my right hand and a white one in my left, wondering 
what would be the next requirement or what would 
be the outcome of what the night had already re- 
quired. 

I was so weak and tired that I did not prognosti- 
cate very long as I felt sleep coming gently down and 
shutting out all perplexities. This condition was 
instantly and most effectively relieved by the calm 
announcement: 

''You are going to petrify tonight." 

"What?" I cried in alarm, echoing "Petrify?" but 
no further explanation was vouchsafed. 

"What did you say?" I called again and again into 
the unresponsive blackness, and even while I listened 
a coldness began creeping upon me and continued 
ever increasing until I felt that I was freezing. 

I did everything I could to shake it off, feeling 
that I was a victim of suggestion. I told myself in 
all seriousness that I was not cold at all but was in- 
stead comfortably warm and honestly tried to feel 
myself so, even when the sense of coldness became 
so intense that to deny it was unreasonable. I could 
have cried out for cover though the night was hot, 
with a sultry threatening of rain in the atmosphere 
and not a breath of air stirring. 

I looked about the room but the semi-darkness 
showed it to be normal except for a frosty mist that 
was hanging about with a bluish light scintillating 



io8 How I Know That 

and spreading itself in pale illumination. The table 
stood beside the bed and as if to reassure myself — to 
prove its presence — I reached out my hand, still re- 
taining the rose, and took a piece of fern that lay 
loosely upon it and pressed it into my hair, which 
was rather loose and disheveled about my face, as 
my hair generally is at night (I like to sleep with it 
unconfined). I do not remember that I had any de- 
fined motive in the act unless it was the subconscious 
desire for material confirmation of that which was 
in the act of transpiring. 

A moment later I could move neither hand nor 
foot, could not move a muscle in my body as it be- 
came rigid, the eyes wide open and the power of 
speech gone. I think I must have been rather terri- 
fied or distressed for an instant, for I remember the 
impulse of tearing myself away from it, which grad- 
ually gave place to resignation and observation. 

The very atmosphere in the room seemed electri- 
fied, alive, and out of its quivering vibrations came 
the form of my mother, who stood by the bedside 
looking down upon me lovingly and tenderly with 
great illuminated eyes. She wore a gray dressing 
gown, which I recognized as the one she had worn 
when last I saw her in the earth life. In her hand 
she held a gorgeous white flower, stretching it toward 
me, almost touching my face with it. The fragrance 
seemed to fill the entire room, neutralizing, over- 
powering that of the earth flowers, and my mood 
blended into the perfect harmony of the offering. I 
wanted to reach out and take the flower from her 
but conscious of the impotency of my hand, manacled 
by some strange power, I could only glance at it as it 
lay out from me showing tiny glimpses of crushed 
red petals between the clasped fingers. So life-like 



The Dead Are Alive 109 

did she seem that the impulse was strong upon me to 
kiss her and tell her how glad I was that she had 
come, but this being impossible, I cried out mentally: 
"Mama — little mama — speak to me." 
"The body is to the soul what the flower is to the 
fragrance," she whispered softly and smilingly, and 
then slowly faded away while still I was looking at 
the place where she had stood, my soul calling to 
her to come back, though the cold was stiffening my 
body and freezing my blood. Then I fell to wonder- 
ing if clothes and flowers really have souls that pass 
into other realms, and are these still the possessions 
of those who owned them in the earth life — do they 
have souls at all? Was there really no end to perplex- 
ing problems to press in upon one from every side? 
My attention was diverted by Meon standing before 
me, plainer and more illuminated than I ever had 
seen him before. I called out to him : 

"Meon, what is the matter — am I dying?" 
He looked into my eyes steadily and ignoring my 
question said impressively: 

"Truth stands unveiled before thee — let it not pass 
unobserved," and with his steady gaze upon me, re- 
sistence and perplexities gave way and I began trying 
to analyze my predicament as the cold waves, like a 
rising tide, every surge of which was perceptible, 
ebbed nearer and nearer life's centre. Then, as it 
were, I felt them touch, and stiffened as the full tide 
of insensibility enveloped me physically while men- 
tally I grew proportionately more active and dis- 
cerning. I could no longer see Meon but felt that 
he was near, still looking at me with sternness in his 
eyes and command in his attitude, impelling me to a 
discernment that, inferring from his words and atti- 
tude was very essential. Then I felt myself to be 



I lo How I Know That 

absolutely alone, alone with the mystery of myself, 
the roses and the cold. 

Suddenly I was conscious of the most compelling 
sensation I ever felt — I was a thing apart from the 
cold, frozen body which seemed a heavy wall sur- 
rounding me as though I were wrapped in something 
cold and heavy. I realized an independence of it, 
an existence without it, and half resented it as a thing 
that bound me, that interfered with my freedom. As 
I acknowledged this to myself, the I principle or in- 
ner strength grew in power until it seemed to reach 
out beyond the cold, useless exterior and meet, in a co- 
operative sense, a greater strength or power. I could 
feel the two meeting, touching, as it were, through the 
dead coldness of the physical body which had become 
as nothing. Then came the gradual birth of a grand 
sensation — a merging of the strength within and that 
without, blending, powerful in its cooperation. I 
felt that this great new power was mine, mine to use 
as I elected, mine to draw upon at will. 

A few seconds later I perceived that the physical 
body was moving and / within it, as a thing apart, 
was being lifted by the cooperative strength of this 
within and without power. The body was as insen- 
sible as a stone with a stone's cold heaviness, but it 
moved lightly up, up, slowly, cautiously, until within 
a few inches of the ceiling where it stopped. While 
it was thus suspended this outer and inner strength 
came together more pronouncedly and forcibly, as 
if to further define and cement their oneness of power 
in independence of the body. 

Then the /, the ego, looked with analysis upon its 
relationship with its physical environment of which 
it had always deemed itself a part, or rather a whole, 
and came to the conclusion that the soul and body 



The Dead Are Alive in 

are two separate entities, that the soul is independent 
of the body and uses it only for the convenience of 
functioning while in the earth life. The body is 
only moulded clay — the soul or spirit is the real life, 
the life everlasting. 

When this conviction was full upon me a voice 
came crying joyously: 

''It is well — it is well," and many spirits joined in 
the demonstrations of rejoicing that I had not per- 
mitted this "unveiled truth to pass unobserved," and 
a great exultation possessed me as the body was 
gently lowered on the bed, head on pillow, more per- 
fectly adjusted than before the ascent. It is impos- 
sible to convey any idea of a condition so out of har- 
mony with the automatic or involuntary actions of 
physical life but suffice it to say, it was wonderful, this 
drawing the line between soul and body, defining it, 
feeling that the soul recognizes not only itself but a 
cooperative relationship too new and mysterious to 
be either fully understood or explained. Veritably 
it seemed to recognize itself as a part of God — one 
with all power. 

Then slowly the cold began giving away to warm 
comfortable life, to the accompaniment of a prick- 
ling stinging sensation not unlike when one's "foot 
goes to sleep." 

My body was miserably stiff and uncomfortable as 
sensibility returned, but I was so tired that although 
the dawn had come, I drifted into the slumber that 
consumes weariness, the chilly memory of the night 
being obliterated for the time being. 

Long after sunrise when I opened my eyes there 
were the material footprints — the flower-laden table 
sat beside the bed, in my right hand was a crushed 
rose of red, in my left one of white and a sprig of 
fern was tangled in my hair. 



112 How I Know That 



CHAPTER XIII. 



VISIONS. LOVE SPIRITUALIZED BY 
DEATH. 

The nurse looked upon the table and at me with 
interrogatory disapproval, which I feigned not to 
see, closing my eyes to avoid her questioning when 
she picked up the fern and crushed roses from the 
floor where I had tossed them. I shrank from the 
sound of a human voice — in fact, any sound was al- 
most painful to me, I was in such a sensitive, spiritu- 
alized condition, feeling more than ever a creature of 
another world. 

The day was well into the afternoon before this 
super-sensitiveness gave way to normality, and I went 
into the bath almost free from it. 

While I bathed a voice came speaking hurriedly, 
as though explaining something. 

"What are you saying?" I asked, listening more 
intently. 

Then followed an explanation concerning the con- 
struction of an electrical appliance for heating water 
and heating rooms generally, to which I replied : 

"You must know that I understand little of the 
practical application of electricity." 

"But why not learn it? The knowledge of its real 
value is in its infancy." 

"I may — some day," I replied almost indifferently, 
without realizing that my indifference was an offense 
to one so deeply in earnest, and felt a tinge of self- 
condemnation when a moment later a retreating voice 
wafted back with reproach in its tone — "Oh, if people 
only understood what they call electricity — the pos- 



The Dead Are Alive 113 

sibilities of it." I wished that I had listened more 
discriminatingly, as by my indifference, I doubtless 
forfeited a truth which otherwise might have been 
given me. All afternoon I could not forget it and 
kept wondering to what extent things exist in the in- 
visible world before they are manifested in this and 
such kindred conjectures. Possibly the recognition 
of this point — that things do exist in the other world 
before they do in this — was the object sought — who 
knows ? 

When night came I was glad, as I was weak and 
weary almost to unconsciousness, and invited sleep 
with something of a longing for it. But it did not 
come. Instead I lay wide awake thinking in a list- 
less, undefined way, with my consciousness closed to 
the invisible world, counting every stroke of the clock 
as it chimed out on the soft stillness of the night, 
which held my soul en rapport with its mood. When 
twelve struck I remember there was a pleasing sen- 
sation that when it struck again its sound would be 
reduced to the minimum. 

Distrait, with eyes wide open, staring into the 
semi-darkness, I could sense a change coming over the 
room and discern a slowly gathering mist, which be- 
came so pronounced that it obscured the walls and 
objects in the room. Then it began growing in scope 
until it became boundless in expanse, lights and colors 
mingling and intermingling in it. Then it took on 
the look of the sea, as though it were, in fact, water; 
showing the inhabitants of the sea, ^'those under the 
crust of her roof and those above it," exercising a po- 
tent, invisible power which will not always remain 
beyond the range of our conception. There were 



114 How I Know That 

ships* that traveled with even more fleetness and 
soreness of purpose "under the crust of her roof" 
than those above it. A terrible blackness, as of a 
storm, yet not a storm, was upon the sea destroying the 
ships that rode upon her waves without injury to 
those that plied beneath them. Then there was a calm 
sea with ships passing down beneath the waves easily 
and unperturbed; others, differently made, passed 
serenely, high above the sea in the air, and there was 
something ominous about it. Then a change came 
over the scene and when the white mist showed again 
there was a darkness within it, which I perceived rep- 
resented land with its cities, rivers, lakes, trees and 
flowers. There were the inhabitants, those on the 
earth and those in the air about and above it, in ap- 
pearance so like that it was difficult to distinguish one 
kind from the other except for the positions main- 
tained. Then came soldiers of all nations in full 
uniform and war equipment, flags flying, marching, 
marching, ever marching toward an illusive goal 
which was labeled "PEACE," and like a will-o-the- 
wisp it moved ever before them as they grimly pur- 
sued it with the attitude of "We will have peace if we 
have to fight for it." And while "peace" was yet afar 
off, they marched with the sound as though they 
waded in mud — but it was not mud, it was blood — 
they were wading in it, splashing it over everything. 
I turned away to shut out the horrible sight and 
sound, and when I looked again — but I will not at- 
tempt to describe the desolation of the readjustment. 
I turned from it and its long drawn out agony, and 
had not the courage to look back for some time. When 
I did a change was over everything — the whole world 



*Pubusher's Note : The following was written in 1913, before the out- 
break of the European war. 



The Dead Are Alive 115 

seemed transformed in every way — a wonderful 
event had come and unity was established among the 
people who were rejoicing exceedingly. Suddenly 
the water mists and the land mists formed themselves 
into a gigantic map of the world, and the people, as 
one great family, were within it, while on the line 
of the circumference the word ^TEACE" came out 
in large, illuminated letters, which moved like living 
things around the map and then formed themselves 
across the diameter, embracing the whole world. 
Slowly the scene began fading, the map going first, 
then the people, then the letters one by one. As my 
tired eyes were riveted upon them in the darkness, 
over and about was a halo, dim but discernible, which 
manifested itself in a scintillating way. Then the 
scenes slowly gave way and I was looking at the famil- 
iar paper on the wall and the picture just as natural- 
ly as though there had been no intrusion of that which 
was non-existent. There was a sense of relief when 
I looked out of the window and saw the reflection of 
the street lamp and listened to the street noises, try- 
ing to shake off the '^coming shadows" of something 
terrible that was nagging my consciousness into ap- 
prehensiveness. 

This, however, was not the only occasion on which 
such phenomena presented themselves but they came 
only when I was too weak and ill to care whether 
they came or not. I have tried to ^^call up" something 
of the kind at will, but so far have never succeeded. 
Of course, they are only visions and may or may not 
have a meaning; but strange as it may seem, from the 
very beginning of these manifestations I have resented 
the vision phase of it. Even now it almost irritates me 
to write about them. I have in mind an especially 
irritating incident — one afternoon flags of the dififer- 



ii6 How I Know That 

ent nations waved, going up and coming down, chang- 
ing positions, uninterruptedly for hours as plainly as 
though they really existed and had some meaning in 
their activity. This persisted until I felt as though I 
could fight every country that ever had a flag, so 
tired of them did I become. Scenery, lakes, seas, 
flowers, trees, beauteous creatures, have come and 
gone, ever changing, in the meshes of the mist — 
veritable dream pictures of loveliness to which I did 
not especially object, although I did not encourage 
them. Be that as it may, that which I saw I wanted 
to have at least a semblance of existence, a preten- 
sion anyway. 

The next morning after the first ^^attack of visions," 
I was thoroughly displeased with myself and felt 
more strongly than ever the advisability of tearing 
myself away from the domination of this tyrannical 
mystery which had held me for days, if not entirely 
against my will, certainly against my judgment. I 
was determined to end it all by getting out of bed 
that very day. The irony of such a determination 
when one is almost too weak to lift one's hands! But 
something had to be done — just to think I had at one 
"sitting" seen what seamed like the world as a giant 
battlefield, in all its bloody horrors ; then a valley of 
desolation, in the tragedy of readjustment, all of 
which was finally ''swallowed up" by the victory of 
unity— of UNIVERSAL PEACE, a kind of para- 
dise on earth. It impressed me more than I would 
care to admit even now, the temptation to interpret 
it was ever recurring to me and it seemed that I 
could forsee awful things. Then I would try to per- 
suade myself that it had no meaning and when it 
persisted I could only take consolation in feeling that 



The Dead Are Alive 1 17 

^'Time is the old justice that examines all offenders," 
and time would tell.* 

While I grappled with the ^Vision" problem a 
telephone message came announcing the arrival in 
the city of a little nephew, whom I welcomed as a 



Foot Note — (Written January, 1916.) 

♦While it was during the summer of 191 1 that this series of mani- 
festations presented itself it was nearly two years before I put it in 
manuscript form and not until September, 1913, that I first made an 
effort to interest a publisher in it. At that time a world's war seemed 
such a remote possibility that publishers were not inclined to risk it — 
to say nothing of the subject matter of the book in general. After 
several unsuccessful efforts at publication I finally modified the "war 
visions," changing them from well defined outlines into the general 
form in which they remain. I then continued taxing publishers with 
the manuscript until the war materialized when I put it regretfully aside, 
as a thing that had failed, and tried to forget it. But now that the 
war comes nearer the end, perhaps a pre-vision as to its outcome 
might be of interest At any rate I find myself restless under a re- 
awakened desire to have it published. 

The manifestations were generally heralded by the assembling of 
the flags of the nations. That of Germany came first and others would 
come floating in, one by one, and all would wave about, intermingling, 
until they became a conglomerated mass from which they would 
finally emerge stained by a redness as of blood, rendering some almost 
indistinguishable — notably that of Austria. The United States always 
came in toward the end, emerging with only a few drops of blood, 
therefore. I should say that when the United States loses that few 
drops of blood the end of the war will not be far off. 

The readjustment will last for some time and be almost as de- 
moralizing as the war, — a veritable commercial war, with the revolu- 
tionary spirit stalking relentlessly in more countries than one. 

To the Allies will be the victory in the present war. An emperor 
will die before the end. There will be many deaths in high places. 
Many fires — one great one, as of a city burning. Austria's throne 
will become vacant — Hungary will become a separate nation. Russia 
will gain, comparatively, more than any other nation in every way; 
the United States in wealth, as it will practically rehabilitate all 
Europe. The French soldier will go down in history as the bravest 
and best, the German, the most relentless. Italy is serving her double 
purpose splendidly, the religious significance of which is patent only 
to those who care to be observant. Germany will not by any means 
be annihilated but will be our next important Republic. The fall of 
Turkey is inevitable. 

And England? lEngland will come in on the "home run" — and will 
not be found wanting on land or sea. 

In the process of readjustment India and Ireland, after a time, will 
have home rule. 

There is a reason for all things and the purpose of this war is to 
settle for all times national differences and "clean the slate" for the 
new dispensation that is being ushered in — a new ^yorld is being born — 
but there will be no settling down until all national differences are 
adjusted. Then a world's teacher will come amongst us as the new 
dispensation is recognized and ushered in, in peace and universal 
brotherhood. 



ii8 How I Know That 

needed diversion. He was the child of my younger 
brother, whose wife had died a short time before. 
While I was very fond of the mother I had never 
seen the child, who was then about two years old. 
While I appreciated the courtesy I was somewhat 
surprised to have the wife's parents bring the child 
to visit me as I had never met either of them. 

A few minutes later they were ushered in, and in- 
troductions over, the grandfather placed the child on 
the bed beside me saying: 

"And this is your brother's boy." 

He was a pretty, intellectual child, with golden 
curls and large, expressive brown eyes that looked 
questioningly into mine. I put my arms about him 
without any intention of kissing him but suddenly I 
felt an intense desire to do so and asked him if he 
was not going to kiss me. He seemed not quite sure 
about it but after a moment's deliberation, bent his 
little curly head and touched my mouth with his rose- 
bud lips. I released him so his grandfather might 
take him if he so desired, fearing he might fall if 
not restrained by more force than was mine to exer- 
cise. I was astonished to hear quite plainly a voice 
cry out: 

"Oh, Fanny, hold him again — I want to kiss him." 

And there standing beside the bed, in broad day- 
light, leaning lovingly over her baby, was its little 
mother, just as lifelike as I had ever seen her! 

Again I folded the child within my arms and as I 
did so I could distinctly feel her arms about mine 
and hear her faint love-laden whisper : 

"Oh, my baby— my little boy." 

Pulling his face down to mine I again kissed it 
but this time I felt distinctly a cold obstruction be- 
tween the child's lips and mine, as its mother's in- 



The Dead Are Alive 1 19 

visible arms about mine held it tightly clasped to 
my breast. At that moment I felt what a sacred, holy 
thing a mother's love is — it passed through my entire 
being and held me glorified, uplifted — the purest 
passion that ever flooded my soul. Suddenly the pres- 
sure lifted, leaving me almost unconscious with weak- 
ness. The divine spark of motherhood, with its il- 
luminating joy, which had been loaned me for that 
brief instant, had gone, possibly never to return. Yet, 
I feel that I shall always know what a love of a 
mother is like — a mother's love spiritualized by death 
— a deathless love. 

When released, the child sat looking at me in a 
puzzled way — who can say, child though he was, 
that his mother's love did not touch his conscious- 
ness? His grandfather came and stood by the bed- 
side, unconsciously falling under the influence of his 
dead child who stood so near him, "the substance of 
things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen." 
Looking at the child and then at me, he said with 
a tremor in his voice : 

''So like her." 

"Yes," I echoed, "so like her/' 

After removing the child, he looked at me and 
said with solicitude: 

"How tired and ill you look — I hope the boy has 
not overtaxed your strength." 

"Not in the least," I assured him, in a mumbling 
sort of way, as talking was rather difficult for my 
lips had a sense of deadness caused by conveying a 
kiss over the span that divides life and death. There- 
fore, I closed my eyes to avoid further conversation 
until I was equal to it. A gentle voice which I re- 
membered so well, came like a caress: 



I20 How I Know That 

"Thank you, dear, it was for this I had them bring 
him. I wish I could thank them, too." 

"I will do it for you," I promised. "Thank you," 
came the voice so weak that it was scarcely audible, 
but she did not go away. Instead, she remained in 
the room the greater part of the day near her baby. 
I could feel her presence and on several occasions 
caught the faintest glimpses of her but she did not 
again converse with me nor did she materialize. 

Subconsciously these dear "old folks" had acted 
in accordance with a request from the world invisible, 
by making a journey to take a baby to a sick aunt who 
had never seen him, that his dead mother might avail 
herself of the occasion to hold her baby in her arms 
and kiss him, while the divine current of her love 
flowed like a benediction over his little body. 

"There is no death! the stars go down. 

To rise on some fairer shore. 
And bright in Heaven's jeweled crown 

They shine forever more. 
And ever near us, though unseen, 

The dear, immortal spirits tread, 
For all the boundless universe 

Is life — there is no dead." 

How I wanted to tell this dear old couple that the 
child they mourned as dead stood beside them radi- 
antly happy, bathing them doubly in her purified love 
because of their tender care of her child. 



The Dead Are Alive 121 

CHAPTER XIV. 
BACK ACROSS THE DARK SPAN. 

The psychology of a love so beautiful remained 
with and haunted me far into the night, as I lay 
looking listlessly out of the window on the moonlight 
— just a waking dreaminess wrapped in careless, con- 
tented indifference, which a peaceful joyousness 
sometimes imparts. 

It was nearing midnight before I drifted into a 
sleep from which I was rudely awakened by a loud 
knocking, which became ever louder and more pro- 
nounced. I sat up quickly, staring inquiringly in 
the direction from whence it came. As the noise came 
from the direction parallel to my head I was obliged 
to turn around as well as to sit up in order to see 
what it was. So numerous had been my surprises 
during the previous weeks that I had come to regard 
myself as being immune from surprise and I now 
realized that I had grievously erred in this, as I 
stared in surprise and horror at the very last thing 
that one would ever expect to see coming back across 
the dark span! 

Moving serenely up and down, using a large white 
pedestal on which was a life-size statue of Sapho as 
a background for its manipulations — was a crutch! 
It continued to move up and down methodically, be- 
coming plainer and plainer, until the hand manipu- 
lating it could be seen distinctly — a hand so char- 
acteristic as to be recognizable among thousands — 
that of my father. A crutch had made his life on 
earth a "long, sad requiem," and there before me was 
the evidence that it had pursued him even into eter- 



122 How I Know That 

nity! My fondness for my father made the contem- 
plation of this thing a horror beyond expression. 
With heart beating wildly, my eyes riveted on it, in 
anguish I cried out : 

^'Oh, papa is it you — really you?" 

**Yes, child, it is I," came the placid answer, as the 
crutch disappeared and I perceived him coming 
nearer, and asked in an awed whisper : 

^^Are you crippled in that life, too?" 

'Why no — I am a veritable giant of strength and 
vigor," he replied, easily, as he took my arm with a 
grip that verified his assertion. 

"But why did you bring that hateful thing?" 

"That you might know it is I." 

"I should have known anyway." 

"Possibly; but do not believe all that you see and 
hear from this side — there are many deceivers." 

"Deceivers?" I echoed in alarm. 

"Yes; unhappy creatures near the earth, who, to 
attract and maintain the attention and consideration 
of those with whom they can communicate, make the 
most preposterous representations." 

"How shocking — but how is one to guard against 
them?" 

"One soon learns to discriminate; 4ike attracts 
like,' and by keeping your spirit pure only the high- 
est can come into spirit communion with you." 

So intense had been my interest as I listened that I 
did not realize that I was still sitting in a cramped 
position, with my feet crossed under me. He seemed 
pleased and said, "You used to sit that way nearly all 
the time when you were a little girl," and helped to 
smooth out the pillow as I lay back on it in joyous 
readiness for a tete-a-tete with the idol of my child- 
hood, coaxing eagerly: 



The Dead Are Alive 123 

*'Now, papa, dear, tell me everything — how you 
came and all about it." 

'^Coming was easy enough, but to get you to hear 
and understand was quite a different matter. Often 
I have come to you, called and caressed you, but 
when you heeded me not I would go away sorrowing 
deeply that my little girl refused to turn her face to 
the light." 

^^I am glad I can see you now — glad to know you 
still live and love me." 

"There is no death — it is all a beautiful birth as 
the people of earth will soon recognize." 

"Tell me all about it," I said with finality, ex- 
pecting to have the whole story in a nutshell — all 
the mysteries solved at once. 

"The earth life well lived is one of the most im- 
portant phases of existence and means much in those 
that are yet to come." 

"Are there more than one?" I asked in astonish- 
ment. 

"It is well that one is not all." 

"How many are there?" 

"I have yet to learn. You know I came here bound 
by the traditional beliefs and have been about as 
busy unlearning as I have learning." 

"Are things so different?" 

"In so far as everlasting punishment and a local- 
ized Hell and Heaven are concerned, yes; but we 
must not discuss such things, let's talk about children, 
as I have not long to remain." 

"Very well, papa," I assented, trying to suppress 
my disappointment that he had so abruptly changed 
the subject most interesting to me. After speaking 
with loving solicitude of each of his children, calling 
them by name, he turned away saying: 



124 How I Know That 

"I must go now." 

'*No — not so soon," I protested. "There are many 
things I want you to explain to me." 

"Create today thy life for tomorrow. I must go, 
as there are requirements in this existence just as 
there are in the earth life." 

When I realized that he was really going I called 
after him, "Oh, Papa, tell me — am I going to die?" 

"There is much you will be given to know — be pa- 
tient, very patient — goodbye." 

"But, Papa, you did not tell me — am I going to 
die?" I called after him in the darkness but no an- 
swering voice came and I knew for a certainty he had 
gone. I sat up in bed again and looked around where 
T had seen the crutch, half afraid that I would see it 
again but there was nothing that even suggested the 
supernatural except a chillness which caused me to 
shiver slightly and put the sheet up over me as I lay 
down again. 

On the following evening when my fiance came I 
wanted so much to tell him of the scene with the baby 
the day before and the crutch of the previous night 
but when I realized that I must not, my heart ached 
at the "rift in the lute" this secretiveness on my part 
was causing in the perfect harmony of our love — 
just a little minor discord, but it was ever there. 
While frankness may be dangerous waters for the 
sailing of ships of State, the same can be said of the 
lack of it in the paddling of Cupid's canoe. 

After he had read aloud to me for some time I felt 
less the oppression of my enforced lack of candor and 
enjoyed listening to a story of life instead of death, 
such as I had listened to for many weeks. 

After the story was concluded, on my natural im- 



The Dead Are Alive 125 

pulse of frankness, I did a very foolish thing — I at- 
tempted to tell him about the crutch that I had seen 
manipulating beside the white pedestal. The nurse 
looked shocked and he looked at me in undisguised 
disapproval and disappointment, saying: 

'^And I was congratulating myself that you were 
better!" 

''I am all right, sir," I assured him but this was 
too much for his toleration. He left the house thor- 
oughly discouraged and no doubt disgusted, while I 
lay dampening the pillow with the tears I could not 
restrain, listening to his footsteps as he went down the 
stairs. I next heard the gate latch click and knew he 
was gone. 

The next day, to my utter bereavement, every 
statue, pedestal and almost every movable thing was 
taken out of the room, leaving it not only without a 
background for ghostly manipulations but so deso- 
late in appearance that these words kept running 
ceaselessly through my brain : 

"Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds 
sang." 



126 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XV. 
WRITING. 

When the nurse told me the doctor considered the 
room ^'more sanitary when less crowded," I made 
no comment but simply turned my head to the foot 
of the bed so my eyes would not continually rest upon 
the devastation of what I considered the most beau- 
tiful room in the world at a time when I needed its 
beauty most — another dagger tipped with the poison 
of mistaken kindness ! 

As the afternoon wore on I became more and more 
restless and dissatisfied and had to battle with myself 
to keep from being really angry at such presumption 
but my ''promise of faithfulness" embraced self-con- 
trol and I strove to be equal to the test put upon it. 
Nor was it as easy as it sounds. I resolutely shut out 
the voices of the invisibles and looked out with my 
thoughts on the gathering storm. The black clouds, 
the lightning flashes and the thunder made me wish 
the wind would blow and the rain would come down 
in torrents to harmonize with my mood, to say noth- 
ing of dispelling the sultriness of the atmosphere. 
After some time of this depression I felt that I must 
do something — anything — to counteract it. With 
this end in view I asked the nurse to bring me writing 
materials and when she did so and made me com- 
fortable by extra pillows I began writing letters. 

Before proceeding very far I perceived that my 
pencil did not respond to my mental direction with 
the usual swiftness and accuracy but I charged it to 
my weakness and tried to continue. The pencil was 



The Dead Are Alive 127 

lifted from the paper in the middle of a word and al- 
most removed from my hand. I began again but it 
was pulled at, touched, shaken and lifted with such 
persistence that at last I gave up writing as the let- 
ters were not of such importance that they had to be 
executed under such stress. Thus arguing I lay back 
disgusted, with the pencil relaxed between my 
fingers. No sooner had I done so than a numbness, as 
of something coming down into my arm and per- 
meating it, was distinctly felt, rendering the arm 
and hand utterly useless. This I regarded very ser- 
iously, as fear of paralysis was upon me; but thor- 
oughly alarmed as I was there was something that 
pressed against removing the hand from the positiou 
in which it was, and I could only regard it appre- 
hensively. Then I saw the hand vibrating and the 
pencil, independent of my direction, assume a writ- 
ing position and, propelled by a force and guided by 
an intelligence outside of my own, began writing, 
yes, writing with my own hand yet I did not 
know what it was until I read it. How wonderful 
it seemed and ''still the wonder grew" when I dis- 
covered some of the writing was in a language I did 
not understand! 

Then the rain came down torrentially, lightning 
flashed, thunder rolled and the wind blew wildly, but 
heeding them not I wrote on and on, enchanted by 
this weird and marvelous manifestation. Held in 
bondage by an intelligence that was dominating its 
every movement independently, my hand gave some 
wonderful demonstrations of what could be accom- 
plished in this way. There were communications 
from friends and loved ones, predictions (a world's 
war amongst them) thoughts, poems, etcetera. 



128 How I Know That 

I here reproduce one of the poems which was 
given that afternoon wherein the soul and body are 
treated as two separate entities, defining their rela- 
tionship, as it were. 

THE CASTLE ME 

I dwell in the Castle Me 

Where I would reign alone 

But Good and Evil are here 
Beside me on the throne. 

I gaze out of its windows 

See it lashed by life's sea 
While I grow ever stronger 

Within the Castle Me. 

But some day I'll go away 

And leave it here below 
For I'll no longer need it 

In the realms where I go. 

Earth will take it back again 
And dust with dust remould 

Just as tho' it had never 

Harbored a human soul. 

While I go on my journey 

Unto regions of light 
Where there'll be no sorrowing 

And there will come no night. 

Now re-read it as I did and the fullness of its 
meaning will come upon you bringing a sense of 



The Dead Are Alive 1 29 

soul — independence of the body — a recognition of 
the ego, as a thing apart from the body and yet man- 
ifesting within it. 

This wonderful ability to write — to pass my hand 
into the realm of the Invisible and bring back oft- 
times strange and startling records, still remains with 
me but I rarely exercise it — what is the use? Even 
as I write this book I constantly combat efiforts of in- 
visible intelligences to control my pen and incorpo- 
rate their views in the writing thereof, but, as it is 
a record of my personal experiences, I am recording 
it incident by incident just as it came to me, regard- 
less of how it may sound or seem; therefore, I repel 
such interferences. 

Using the pencil was not the only phase of this in- 
dependent writing that manifested itself through me. 
On numerous occasions invisible hands have taken 
mine and with my index finger written on walls, 
doors, portieres, bed or anything convenient — even 
on my lap. Where there was no visible result each 
word was spelled out slowly, letter by letter, as my 
mind accepted and retained it. If for any reason a 
letter was obscure or I failed to grasp it, it was im- 
mediately rewritten until correctly conveyed. 

At first all writings were accomplished by pro- 
nounced vibrations of the hand but gradually this 
ceased and the hand appeared practically normal. 

While admitting this form of writing to be one of 
the most w^onderful phases of my psychological ex- 
periences, I strongly advise against indulging in it 
indiscriminately or in the spirit of levity. When the 
hand is passed into the Beyond it is generally taken 
by any presence that happens to be near and if levity 
attracts irresponsible beings, in accordance with 



130 How I Know That 

the law of "like attracts like" the result is as often 
misleading as otherwise. There are entities in the 
world of shadows who do not hesitate to give the 
most astounding untruths just as there are on earth. 
This I have proved to my own satisfaction and hence 
this is a subject that should be approached only when 
one is mentally and spiritually en rapport with the 
highest influences — bathed in purity of purpose and 
strength of soul more powerful than adverse influ- 
ences can possibly be always remembering where 
Good rules evil is powerless. Unless we have some 
affinity for evil it cannot touch us, therefore, when 
any experiment is undertaken with our thoughts "in 
the right key" we lessen the chances of forming un- 
desirable invisible acquaintances which are really 
of more importance than visibles. Our thoughts 
should be carefully trained in the right channel be- 
fore attempting any experiments at all, and then only 
with careful discrimination. 

"You can never tell what your thoughts will do 

In bringing you hate or love. 
For thoughts are things and their airy wings 

Are swifter than carrier dove. 

They follow the law of the universe 

Each thing must create its kind. 
And they speed o'er the track to bring you back 

Whatever went out from your mind." 

That "thoughts are things" cannot be overlooked 
in the study of psychology — one might say it is the 
keynote — it is by thought we converse with the soul 
world — our thoughts in the spirit world are very 



The Dead Are Alive 131 

much what our personal appearance is in the earth 
life, only more so. Our invisible associates are very 
much what our inner thoughts are as that is what 
attracts them. 

All that stormy afternoon was consumed in watch- 
ing my benumbed hand and arm serving accurately 
and swiftly an intelligence other than mine and look- 
ing at the result with as much surprise and wonder- 
ment as if executed by the hand of another. 

When the sun was set and the evening shadows 
came into the room the nurse suggested that I must 
be very tired and insisted on putting the writing ma- 
terial away and sending the letters to be mailed, to 
which I replied '^they are unfinished" and carefully 
folded what I had written and put it in an envelope, 
placed it in the box and handed it to her to put on 
my desk, which she did without comment. 

Then the night came on, dark with continuous rain 
and a distinct coolness in the atmosphere but there 
was no sleep as it was Tuesday night and I could not 
tear myself away from the watching and waiting it 
fastened upon me. How weary I felt of waiting, 
weary of life, even weary of the promise of death. 
All night long my consciousness was open to the 
silence — I called into it but no answering voice came 
— the only form of communication was a mingling 
mass of letters which arranged and rearranged them- 
selves in a meaningless way before my eyes, continu- 
ously vibrating, as I tried and tried to decipher them. 
Hands would take mine and write words or letters 
indiscriminately on the bed covers with my first 
finger. This continued until in very desperation I 
closed my eyes, feeling that I would despise writing 
unto the end of time; would never try to decipher 



132 How I Know That 

any more such communications ; never again permit 
my hand to be used for such purposes. This resentful 
and rebellious mood lasted until day had almost come 
and as I felt it giving way opened my eyes and was 
almost shocked to see those vibrating, tantalizing let- 
ters in the identical position I had last seen them. I 
viewed them almost indifferently now, feeling that it 
did not matter whether they were there or not, then 
in a gentle, methodical way, the vibrating letters 
formed themselves into this sentence: ^^This is thy 
lesson in patience — be thou patient even unto the 
end." And thus another Tuesday night took its place 
in the file of yesterdays. 



The Dead Are Alive 133 



CHAPTER XVI. 

SOUL AND BODY IN PROCESS OF 
SEPARATION. 

"There is a natural body and there is a spiritual body/' — St. 
Paul. 

The next day found me so weak and weary that I 
mentally protested against the least exertion, even 
the bath, my one diversion, but the echo that came 
back, *'I will be faithful," compelled my compliance 
according to my promise. I protested in a subcon- 
scious way, just as I did about breathing or any other 
exertion, voluntary or involuntary. I was tired of 
it all — the endless tragedy of it! 

As I went into the bath room I stopped and leaned 
against the door facing to rest and almost succumbed 
to the temptation to turn back to the bed, regardless 
of the invisible world and its requirements. Again 
1 seemed to hear myself saying: ''I will be faithful," 
which spurred me on until I stood beside the tub. 
With one foot poised in mid air I stood transfixed, 
looking with wide, amazed eyes at myself stretched 
full length in the tub! 

My foot slowly descended to the floor as a sensa- 
tion of awe came upon me. There was no mistaking 
it — there I lay — there I stood — one / gazing at the 
other. Common courtesy not to mention physical 
impossibilities forbade me joining my ''other self" 
in the bath; beside which I did not care to annihilate 
that ''other self" without giving it an opportunity 
of explaining why I had waited so late in life to be- 
come twins! 



134 How I Know That 

While watching it eagerly it began evidencing 
life, vibrating, splashing about as tho' in reality tak- 
ing a bath — the thing was awesome and I trembled 
somewhat as I looked at it — it was certainly me and 
there / stood looking at it, watching it manifest life, 
and acting as I would act. Then almost suddenly 
it became dual as it struggled in the water — distinct- 
ly I could see another body, shadowy but dej&ned, an 
exact duplicate, confined within the physical body, 
the duplicate as distinctly discernible as the original 
This body interpenetrated the physical, the relation 
of the physical body to it being very much that of a 
glove covering the hand, the inner body directing 
the movements of the outer body as the hand directs 
the glove. At first the duplicate or shadow body 
used its potency in regulating the movements of the 
physical body, then it seemed to withdraw within it- 
self, letting go of the physical body, as it were, which 
became heavily still. Independently of the outer the 
inner body began slightly vibrating, more and more 
pronouncedly and with ever increasing power. 

In the exercise of its movements, now unhampered 
by the physical, it began pulling up the feet with that 
peculiar vibratory motion so characteristic of these 
manifestations and continued pulling until the 
''shadow" feet came up to about midway between 
the knees and ankles only to fall back and vibrate up 
again and again. Then the "shadow" hands began 
jerking and pulling themselves up loosening them, as 
it were, from the physical hands that lay still and mo- 
tionless. They did not succeed so well as the feet; 
with the greatest apparent effort they could come 
no higher than just about the wrists. Then the 
"shadow" hands and feet began working at the same 



The Dead Are Alive 135 

time and the entire inner body moved in apparent 
readjustment — the hands and feet repeatedly pulling 
up to what seemed their limit only to fall back and 
start all over again while the physical body lay white 
and still in the water. 

It is impossible to conceive of how fascinating and 
awe-inspiring this phenomenon was — it held me ob- 
livious to all things else. It was evident that the 
spirit or soul body was trying to force itself out of the 
physical — trying to gain strength by drawing up the 
hands and feet to propel it in an upward direction 
beyond the physical confines. The ''shadow'^ head 
was pressing hard against the cranium but never one 
time did it go for even the faintest fraction beyond. 
The ''shadow" eyes pulled away from their physical 
windows, the nose and ears drew away, but the mouth 
remained firm. I realized that I was being shown 
the modus operandi of the separation of the soul 
from the body and truly it was a grewsomely won- 
derful thing to look upon. 

So engrossed was I in its contemplation that I took 
no note of time and just when it promised a revela- 
tion of the exit, a voice so startled me I nearly 
jumped into the tub amid the strange, weird dissec- 
tion. 

''You have been in here quite long enough," and 
punctuating her words with her presence the nurse 
stood looking at me, her face mirroring her surprise 
and annoyance to find I had not even been in the 
water. Suppressing her annoyance she said, with 
forced solicitude: 

"How stupid of me to permit you to remain so 
long — come into bed at once." 

So saying she took my cold hand and half leaning 



136 How I Know That 

on her I went into bed with a heart heavy with dis- 
appointment, feeling that but for ill-timed interrup- 
tion, my eyes would have feasted upon the mystery 
of mysteries — the goodbye scene between the soul 
and its earth abode. 

With half closed eyes I listened without hearing 
her lecture on ^'Taking the proper care of oneself." 
Then I heard her go into the bath room and turn out 
the water, wondering vaguely if the apparition was 
still there, yet realizing that even if it were the 
power to see it was not hers. Strange that one person 
can see such things and another cannot! Yet such is 
a truth that can be demonstrated. 

When she came in she brought some wine and 
tried to cheer me but my disappointment was too 
poignant to be dissipated by mere wine and words, 
especially as her promises were for physical better- 
ment of which I never expected to avail myself, for 
death seemed in a measure to have already fore- 
closed its mortgage on me. 

What I had seen haunted me; it seemed my mind 
had photographed it; wherever I looked I seemed 
to see that weird, struggling spirit in its desperate 
efforts to escape from the prison house of flesh in 
which it was incarcerated. Shutting my eyes did not 
shut it out but rather intensified it. In fancy I al- 
most felt a ''shadow" body struggling within me. I 
knew it must be there but was it really struggling to 
escape? I was sure it was, but why did it struggle 
when I was so willing that it should escape? 

I think there must have been something of exul- 
tation in the knowledge that now I could answer that 
oft- repeated question — 'Where is the soul?" to 
which everybody seems to have some kind of answer, 



The Dead Are Alive 137 

theory or conjecture, but which inevitably reverts to 
the agnostic admission, '^I do not know." And now 
I did know and the knowledge was wonderfully up- 
lifting spiritually. 

This relationship of soul and body can be likened 
unto the interpenetration of water poured on sand. 
The water sinks into the earth, fertilizes, gives it 
life and the ability to reproduce and yet it is not 
visible to the physical eye any more than is the soul 
in the human earth. Water is the soul of mother 
earth — spirit the soul of human earth. Water goes 
back from whence it came — so does the spirit — each 
in its own way by its own process. 

When night and the magic of its stillness was upon 
everything it all came back and the '^shadow" body 
within was calling to other ^'shadows" that had been 
released from their prisons of flesh and they came re- 
newing the promise of my release and we all rejoiced 
together. My body had become a thing apart and I 
no longer included it in thought of myself — it was 
now a useless thing from which I would soon escape. 

Then in a sense of humility, I wondered why this 
wonderful experience, this knowledge, had been 
given to me instead of one more spiritually worthy, 
to one of the many who have spent their lives in an 
effort to solve this great problem. The more I 
thought of it the more the responsibility of the 
knowledge weighed upon me. I could not feel that 
I was entitled to it and my mood grew retrospective. 

As I meditated out of the files of memory came a 
little song, which as a child, I sang in Sunday School 
long ago, entitled ^TASS IT ON" and insinuated 
itself into the thread of my thoughts as tho' it be- 
longed there, and in the long silent watches of the 



138 How I Know That 

night every word came back — tramping through the 
halls of consciousness as tho' it were a thing of today 
instead of belonging to the yesterdays of childhood. 
It made me feel that I wanted to tell the whole world 
what I knew and what I had seen; and in reality 
^'pass it on" even unto the ends of the world and I 
felt the thrill of such a possibility. And as the dream 
pages turned backward — I was a child again — time 
had given back its toll. I could hear the old organ 
pealing forth its melody in the little church nestling 
among the cool, green trees, saw the flowers and half 
dilapidated grounds, the solemn gravestones (senti- 
nels of the dead) in the distance as I looked out of 
the window. In the Sunday School choir with me 
were the same little girls with their fluffy skirts and 
curly hair — the same little boys with hair wet and 
plastered down, fumbling nervously with catechisms, 
stealing glances at the lessons which they had not 
looked at until they came ; there were the same teach- 
ers with benign and kindly faces ; the same organist 
and we were standing about her as she played, all 
singing: 



"Have you had a kindness shown? 

Pass it on. Pass it on, 
'Twas not given for you alone 

Pass it on, Pass it on. 
Let it travel down the years 

Lpt it wipe another's tears 
Till in Heaven the deed appears, 

Pass it on. Pass it on." 



And thus with the present and past intermingling, 
half dreaming, half-waking, "Sleep, nature's soft 



The Dead Are Alive 139 

nurse" touched me with her tender unconsciousness 
and I did not wake until the day had come. 

That day when I went to the bath I looked eager- 
ly, hoping that I might again see that which had so 
engrossed my thoughts since its appearance the day 
before. But it was ever so, when I expected or 
looked for such things they came not but waited un- 
til I was entirely ^^off guard" to confront me with the 
most unexpected and inconceivable phenomena. 
With disappointment I resigned myself to the most 
uneventful bath of the series. I could not even feel 
a presence near, listened but no voice came, no hands 
touched me — the invisible world seemed suddenly 
depopulated. A chilly depression made the bath as 
short as it was uneventful and I returned to bed with 
a loneliness so intense it was painful. This sudden 
withdrawal of the supermundane from the mundane 
life produces the most oppressive loneliness imagin- 
able. However, loneliness of any kind was a new 
sensation to me, for my invariable answer when any 
one asks me if I am ever lonely, is "Yes, sometimes — 
for my own company — to be alone with myself." This 
strikes a responsive chord in some hearts, but most 
admit their dependence for companionship on their 
fellow creatures. 

And now I was lonely, really bitterly lonely, my 
soul was crying out for companionship — how had I 
offended my friends of the world invisible that they 
had withdrawn so entirely? "Come back to me" I 
whispered pleadingly "come back, I am so lonely 
without you" but they heeded me not, and with a 
heavy heart, I turned my eyes to the nurse, a mun- 
dane creature, for companionship and consolation. 



140 How I Know That 

Noting the unhappiness in my face she was quick to 
respond and came to me, asking kindly: 

'What is it, dear?" 

^'Oh, nothing — nothing. I am so tired — tired of 
being sick" I made answer as a downpour of tears 
relieved the tenseness. She answered with conven- 
tional words of consolation : 

''There, there, don't cry — ^you will be well in a few 
days, you are so much better already." 

I did not reply, knowing well enough that I was 
neither better nor worse, but in the same negative 
condition that I had been for days, being held there 
by a force desiring it and having the ability to en- 
force it. I felt this force and recognized it yet was 
compelled to take pills and medicines until the sight 
and effect of them almost made me really ill, for the 
nurse having a professional sense of duty never let 
a period which demanded these inflictions pass with- 
out exercising her prerogative. I submitted as uncom- 
plainingly as possible. But this day my enforced 
loneliness made me feel more kindly toward her 
than I had done before and I entered into a conver- 
sation with her that helped fill an otherwise lonely 
afternoon, and found her more intellectual than I 
had hoped for. 

But it was when the shadow of earth called night 
came down, shutting out the light of day, that the 
floodtide of loneliness penetrated my being. It was 
then I called again and again "come;" it was then 
my eyes searched eagerly for a sign; then that I 
listened anxiously for even a whisper or a tapping; 
listened until hope turned ashes and weariness sifted 
its torturing despair into my soul. I felt like holding 
up my hands in the darkness that pressed upon me 



The Dead Are Alive 141 

and calling aloud to those hidden behind it to come 
to me again, to speak to me, but the shadows flicker- 
ing past only mocked me, assuming shapes roused 
my hopes until the dawn came dispelling them en- 
tirely. 

Nor did the day bring their return — noon gave 
way to afternoon with their desertion still preying 
upon me. I wondered how I had offended — whether 
1 had failed in my promised ^^faithfulness." Out of 
the stillness these words came back to haunt me, "O 
weaver of thy freedom, be faithful" — I seemed to 
hear them again and felt as though I had not been as 
faithful as I might have been, nor did I try to justi- 
fy myself. I was only sorry with a desire to make 
amends, yet feeling that it was too late. A vague 
sense of the end was upon me, and with an aching 
heart I waited. 

The afternoon was well spent, when the nurse not- 
ing that my usual bathing hour had passed asked: 

''Aren't you going to bathe today?" 

''Yes, but don't turn on the water — I'll just take a 
shower." 

And again the temptation not to bathe assailed me 
as I felt really unequal to it in every way. Then I 
reasoned that absence of him to whom I had made 
the promise did not absolve me from it and I felt 
ashamed for almost yielding to the temptation, feel- 
ing that if I could not keep my promises when left 
alone my faithfulness was indeed a cheap com- 
modity. Then I resolved to be truly faithful in 
every promise regardless of everything. With this 
determination full upon me I went into the bath and 
turned on the water, which came with a hard, cold 
impact that was almost painful. Wondering at this 



142 How I Know That 

I reduced the supply but it came so insufficiently, 
that I turned it on full again but it spurted upon me 
with such chilling impact, that I decided, shivering, 
to conclude the bath, when I noted the usual appear- 
ance of the water. It was clear and sparkling, fall- 
ing in ice-like formations over my body, piling up in 
some places, and melting as it came in contact with 
my warm skin. I looked at it and examined it analy- 
tically and if it wasn't ice I never saw any! While 
realizing how preposterous this sounds, I took it in 
my hand and held it between my fingers. It melted 
and I shivered with the coldness of it. I held the 
hose high over my head permitting these crystalline 
formations to fall over my hair and roll on my body 
in their cold transparent beauty while I wondered at 
it. 

Suddenly the whole room seemed turned into a 
veritable crystal palace, catching and radiating all 
colors, soft, glistening white predominating, and still 
the formations fell upon me, some melting in my 
hair, others rolling about in icy indiscrimination — 
just a page from the book of fairy dreams! 

Then a change came over everything — the room 
seemed to merge into something else; the hose had 
fallen from my hand, beings of the invisible, cloud- 
robed and frostily-white floated about, while the 
**choir invisible" added its harmony. Rainbows and 
crystals seemed intermingling in the radiant white- 
ness and I felt as one with the pure creatures that 
hovered about, as the "shadow" body within me, in 
independence of the physical environment felt 
stronger and more defined as a separate entity in its 
association with what it recognized as creatures of 
its kind — free from the restraint of the material. 



The Dead Are Alive 143 

Above all was a sense of something too great to be 
measured, something which to describe would be to 
degrade. Infinitude interpenetrated all, including 
me. 

So far had I drifted out beyond the portals of the 
mundane that the sound of the nurse's voice was like 
an explosion of dynamite as she said decisively: 

''Time is up. You are not strong enough to stay 
in long today." 

And thus from "above the clouds" wrapped with- 
in the meshes of its misty veil, I fell suddenly into 
a cold bath tub, with the nurse bending over me with 
anxiety in her face. 



144 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XVII. 
GETHSEMANE. 

"The broad minded see the truth in different religions; the 
narrow minded see only the differences f 

After my nurse assisted me into bed she remarked 
with emphasis : 

"You are not able to take these baths and I shall 
insist that the doctor have them discontinued." 

When I was about to remonstrate a voice whisper- 
ed: 

"No more are necessary," and accordingly I re- 
sponded submissively: 

"I shall take no more." 

Evidently pleased at what she considered an easy 
victory, the nurse added: 

"You may take them when you are better, but not 
while you are so weak." 

She chafed my cold hands between her warm 
palms, which burned almost painfully. Then pull- 
ing the light covers more snugly about me, she gave 
me a glass of port, which I drank to the last drop 
enjoying its life-giving glow. 

"Try to rest now," she said kindly as she went to 
the South window and picked up a magazine, leav- 
ing me to the joyous realization that if my soul had 
been stained in the past on its terrestial journey 
my naturalization with the ethereal forces had beau- 
tifully demonstrated that it was no longer so, and had 
left no doubt as to my oneness with them. 

"And now," I told myself, "I am ready for the 
transition." In profound humility I thanked what- 



The Dead Are Alive 145 

ever it was that had tortured me with waiting and 
preparations, at which I had so often rebelled, and 
felt completely compensated by this one manifesta- 
tion. Even now I look back on that bath as too 
sacred to describe in a book, the very nature of which 
is bound to excite differences of opinion, even in the 
sympathetic, to say nothing of the criticisms of those 
who cannot understand and the jestings of those who 
will not. The last class Schopenhauer must have 
had in mind when he said: "Naked truth is out of 
place before the eyes of the profane vulgar; it can 
only make its appearance thickly veiled." 

It is easier for me to understand those who refuse 
to believe anything than those who believe every- 
thing blindly. To me, knowledge and faith are 
synonymous. I believe in knowing for oneself. All 
else is a matter of belief. While / know that what 
I am recording in these pages is true, I do not expect 
my readers to accept my mere statement. I do hope, 
however, that this book will impel its readers to in- 
vestigate for themselves individually. The soul's 
relation to the invisible world is not a matter of 
belief; it is a matter of knowledge — one either knows 
or does not know. A wider or more fascinating field 
of research does not exist but each person must search 
for himself. The gate is open to all — we can enter 
or not just as we will. 

**He who thinks with the many must often think 
wrong," so Shakespeare tells us and so history proves. 
There was a time when "the many" believed the 
world had four corners and the sun moved instead 
of the earth but this did not make the earth square 
nor the sun move. When Columbus announced his 
intention of going in search of another world which 



146 How I Know That 

he believed beyond the seas, only a few shared his 
belief, while ''the many" not only doubted and 
scoffed but denounced him as mad. Fortunately, the 
existence of the Western Hemisphere did not depend 
on whether "the many" believed in it or not. There 
is always a Columbus who insists on seeing for him- 
self and thereby is convinced, thus helping the world 
in its evolution towards perfection. Just as surely as 
there is a world beyond the sea of water there is one 
beyond the sea of Silence. The space world, like the 
sea, has its inhabitants. Looking casually you 
cannot discover this but when once upon it, the evi- 
dence of life appears. The sea has laws that must 
be complied with before we can become intimate 
with its creatures. Calling a fish will not bring him, 
but a hook and line will. There is no doubt that 
at one time people, except those few living where the 
tides brought them in, did not know what the in- 
habitants of the sea were like. Most people do not 
know what the inhabitants of Space are like except 
the few whose consciousness is touched by the tides 
of other shores and there are more of these than is 
generally supposed. The standing army of cowards 
that Public Opinion makes has within its ranks those 
who could tell truths stranger than any fiction ever 
written but dare not for fear of what people might 
think or say. 

Vanity intrudes itself even at death. As I lay with 
eyes closed dreaming of the long delayed transition, 
which I felt was near realization, my mind wandered 
to a pearl-bedecked dress, pure and white, and be- 
fore my mind's eyes there was materialized a beauti- 
ful corpse, robed in magnificent garments, which had 
been created for a bride, to whom every pearl, every 



The Dead Are Alive 147 

thread had represented joyous anticipation of love's 
consummation. There was something fascinating 
about the picture, even in the contemplated arrange- 
ment of the hair, the manicuring of the nails, etc. So 
enamored did I become of robing my corpse in my 
wedding dress that I wanted to look into a mirror 
and see whether this enforced illness had left any 
traces on my face, as apprehensively I wondered 
whether the long agonizing weeks had written their 
story in lines on my face. Although I realized this 
was foolish, it was irresistible, and I felt compelled 
to see how I looked. I knew that I should be think- 
ing of higher things and though I resisted the im- 
pulse as long as I could I was finally obliged to call 
the nurse and ask: 

"Will you please bring me a mirror? — I want to 
see how I look." 

''Very well," she assented smiling, as she turned 
away to comply with my request, and in a moment 
returned, handing me the glass, saying: 

"Your illness has certainly dealt gently with your 
looks." I accepted her remark only as an encourage- 
ment and when she resumed her seat by the window 
I held the mirror in my hand hesitating to look — be- 
cause I thought it possible that my appearance had 
changed. After pausing a little I looked. Uncer- 
tainty deepened into profound interest as I stared 
into the mirror. Not a line of my face nor the sem- 
blance of it did I see. Instead of the reflection of my 
face there was something alarmingly different — a 
garden in which the form of a man was kneeling with 
eyes upturned in reverential entreaty. It needed 
no one to tell me what this represented yet I was re- 
luctant to admit it, and tried further to deceive my- 



148 How I Know That 

self by wondering what it meant refusing to accept 
v.rhat I knew it was and what everyone would recog- 
nize. I had, perforce, one might say, within the last 
few weeks accepted God, a Supreme Being, Infinite 
Intelligence — call it what you will — the Cause of 
which the earth life is the effect, but to accept the 
Christ seemed different, and yet there before my eyes 
was reflected in minute detail, as the orthodox would 
conceive it, the sublime agony in the Garden of 
Gethsemane. 

It distressed me to behold this scene — I who at the 
same time was denying it and looking at it. I did 
not want to see it nor admit its existence. I had pro- 
gressed so wonderfully near the World Beyond that 
encountering this vision on the threshold of it was 
like a bar to further progress. It was as if my great- 
est sin of omission had waited to halt me at the very 
gateway. 

"No, not that, it cannot be," I told myself, as with 
a sigh of unrest I laid the glass face down on the bed 
and tried to convince myself that it was all a delusion, 
that my sight had become impaired by constantly see- 
ing things that did not exist to the physical senses. 
And then, what had the story of this garden to do 
with me anyway? I knew there was an existence be- 
yond this into which one passed through the process 
we call ''death" but this did not compel the accept- 
ance of all the theories of all the ages. I argued to 
myself that this Christ was only one of many Christs, 
recalling the beautiful story of Lord Buddha and the 
Saviours of other nations. Along these lines my 
thoughts wandered from the vision in the mirror into 
the realm of ''stock" arguments against the Christ, 
which so fortified me mentally that I was quite con- 



The Dead Are Alive 149 

fident that the vision had vanished and with this as- 
surance I raised the mirror and again looked into it. 
I almost dropped it so great was the shock; it was 
nearer, much nearer and wonderfully magnified. I 
never looked upon anything that so aflfected me, es- 
pecially so when I perceived that the figure in the 
garden was alive ! As I looked fixedly at it the hands 
moved in supplication, the eyes tremblingly opened 
and shut in agony, and a great scintillating light came 
down above the head and played about the sorrowful 
face, while the lips quivered, the eye-lids stiffened 
and the eyes grew fixed in upward supplication. 

I realized that this was the most wonderful scene 
that I had had the privilege of beholding. The hand 
of time had turned back to the Tragedy of Tragedies 
and bringing it up through the centuries, had placed 
it before my unbelieving eyes and I gazed at it in the 
very agony of its reality. Yes, there was the garden 
— the Garden of Gethsemane lay across my pathway 
— between me and the other world,, and to go beyond 
it was to pass through it. 

And the living scene held me as in a spell. I could 
not turn my eyes away ; it held me in an awe that was 
painfully fascinating and a voice was whispering 
sorrowfully: ^'Gethsemane — Gethsemane," and soft 
voices took up the refrain farther and farther away 
until the very faintest echo came back ^'Gethsemane 
— Gethsemane." I then found myself staring in the 
mirror at the reflection of my own pale, disturbed 
face, to which I did not even notice for I realized 
the wonderful vision had gone. I laid the mirror 
down reverently, face up, and thought long and earn- 
estly. All noises seemed sacriligious. I remember 
these words insinuated themselves into my thoughts: 



150 How I Know That 

"The same world still whether it smiles or scorns 
That crowned Voltaire with roses, Christ with 
thorns." 

The vision seemed indelible. It was photographed 
on my mentality, and impressed upon my soul. I 
sought to fathom the mystery of it, a voice startled 
me saying : 

"We are all Christs — the same divine spark is in- 
corporated within all. He is the Son of God and all 
are the children of God." 

How shocking this sounded for a moment but the 
"still, small voice" within, the divine spark, whis- 
pered and I knew it was true. 

"He is the perfect man manifested; our Exemplar 
and teacher," continued the speaker. "When we 
evolve to where we are willing to die that others 
might live, we begin to recognize within ourselves 
the Christ Consciousness." 

There was such a sense of being lifted up above 
and beyond the mundane, a sense of no longer be- 
longing to the earth life, that when dinner was served 
it seemed an unnatural thing, a thing to be resented. 
How could one administer to the physical when the 
banquet halls of the soul were filled with feasts that 
money could not buy nor earth produce? 

"And I feel the power uprising 

Like the power of an embryo God ; 

With a glorious wall it surrounds me 
And lifts me up from the sod." 

In the stillness of the night these manifestations of 
the day came back persistently and re-enacted them- 
selves, driving sleep away. I tried to shut them out 



The Dead Are Alive 151 

by listening attentively to the heavy dashing of the 
sea against the rip-rap beyond the sea-wall and en- 
deavored to fancy myself watching the spray as it 
splashed above the rocks and fell back in the foam 
of the sea but above all there was a garden scene that 
haunted my senses — the face of the ^'Man of Sor- 
rows" shut out everything else. There was an invis- 
ible throng about me. I could hear them talking 
amongst themselves as in consultation and hear that 
compelling word "Gethsemane." Then magically 
a change came over everything and I stood in the 
garden where I had seen the Figure of Sorrow kneel- 
ing. I realized that standing there was a privilege 
that transcends conception. And even as this recog- 
nition was upon me I found that I was not alone; in 
some strange way this garden semed to embrace the 
whole world and the whole world was sorrowing 
deeply, and ''the voice that was calmer than the si- 
lence," said: 

'When I come again I will destroy this garden 
of sorrows." 

Was it Christ telling me that he was coming again? 
I was asking myself in perplexity not unmixed with 
humility, as I looked pityingly upon the sorrow about 
me and then lifted my eyes beyond it to the other 
side, and, although the garden was dark but for the 
stars, beyond it there was a beacon light, illuminat- 
ing the dark, silent waters beyond, to which the path 
through the garden led. 

"We may not know it but there lies 

Somewhere under the evening skies 

A garden we all must see 

Gethsemane, Gethsemane 

Each his own Gethsemane." 



152 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
PASSING INTO THE BEYOND. 

At breakfast the next day a voice said : 

"Eat nothing; drink nothing/' so the breakfast re- 
mained untasted, while I wondered at a command 
so strangely at variance with all mundane require- 
ments. My obedience caused a veritable storm of 
protest from those interested in my physical welfare. 

When my fiance came in the evening and remon- 
strated, I was strongly tempted to confess all but 
when this temptation was strongest, I remembered 
a motto hanging over his desk: "The Head That Is 
Loaded With Wisdom Does Not Leak At The 
Mouth," and refrained, realizing that my confession 
might be productive of more harm than good. I thus 
forced him to place his own construction on what ap- 
peared to be "obstinate foolishness" on my part. 

The finest wines, delicacies and fruits were brought 
to me only to be carried away. I really did not want 
them, as I was neither hungry nor thirsty. In some 
splendidly beautiful way I was protected against the 
physical inconvenience and distress that otherwise 
would have attended so complete a fast. 

It was then I felt most keenly the responsibility of 
living in two worlds — each exacting its obligations. 
To the requirements of the forces of earth, the invis- 
ible would not concede an inch and so between the 
two I was unhappily suspended — an intermundane 
creature, of neither world yet in both! I bore it all 
as patiently as I could, realizing that those interested 
in me were drawing as heavily on the Bank of Pa- 



The Dead Are Alive 153 

tience as I was and so tried to impress upon them my 
appreciation of the kindness of their intentions. They 
were toiling blindly in the darkness but I was moving 
toward the beacon light beyond the darkness, in uni- 
son with something they could not understand. 

On the third day my Beloved came in the evening 
with a look of determination on his face, and after 
seating himself came characteristically straight to 
the point. 

'^I have never before asked favor of God, Man or 
Devil but I do ask you to be reasonable and to con- 
form to the recognized requirements of life." 

"Oh, Dear, please let's talk of something else," I 
pleaded, but he continued until he had said every 
word he intended and concluded by asking point- 
edly: 

"Will you?" 

"No," I replied, feeling that I had affixed my sig- 
nature to my death warrant. He drew himself up 
with a sorrowful expression on his face and resent- 
ment iji his eyes, and refrained from further com- 
ment on the subject. 

I felt like screaming — to relieve the tenseness of 
the silence that had settled down upon us. When it 
seemed I could not endure it another moment, I said 
with pleading in my soul, whether it was in my voice 
or not. 

"Talk to me, dear. Tell me something that has 
happened today." 

"Nothing has happened," he answered looking 
straight ahead. 

"Don't worry about me," I ventured, and added, 
"Can't you see that I am better?" 



154 How I Know That 

"Nonsense," he replied almost irritably, taking 
further refuge in the silence that so oppressed me. 

I tried desperately to escape the influence of the 
oppressive silence but it was impossible. Then the 
tenseness began to give way — something seemed to 
snap — I was sinking — sinking — going out beyond the 
depression — beyond the range of argument. 

Observing this, he turned to me calling : 

*Tanny, Fanny," which I heard without the abil- 
ity to respond. He took my cold hand, felt the pulse 
and turned to the nurse : 

"Wine, please." 

When she came with the wine he lifted my head 
and tried to pour it into my mouth but obedient to 
the force that dominated me, I turned my face away. 
The wine stained the white pillow without a drop 
going into my mouth. 

This was too much. I saw his face almost con- 
vulsed with annoyance, which he restrained with a 
visible effort, as he set the glass down with precision, 
bade me an icicle-fringed good-night and left the 
house. 

In semi-consciousness I listened to his retreating 
footsteps, all the time hoping that he would relent 
and come back but when I heard the gate click with 
more emphasis than usual I knew my wishing was 
in vain. That icy good-night seemed a living thing 
which tantalized and chilled me, making me feel 
like calling him back to explain to him, regardless 
of consequences, that my change of attitude was not 
a change of heart. This I wanted to tell him before 
the "cold hand" that lingered near touched me with 
the silence that would forbid the telling of what I 
felt he should know. 



The Dead Are Alive 155 

^'Fanny," interrupted a voice from the invisible. I 
whispered ''Hush — let me hold my love to my heart 
for the last time," and then — 

''Why the last time?" 

"I will soon be in another world." 

"You have been taught that love does not suffer by 
the transition from world to world." 

"So I have — so I have," I admitted more to myself 
than to the voice. 

Then I heard the nurse creep quietly into bed as 
though she fancied me asleep. Soon I heard her 
sigh the sigh of weariness born of her unavailing ef- 
forts to tempt me from an allegiance she could not 
understand. That she soon slept was evidenced by 
a voice that said solemnly: 

"She is asleep and cannot wake until she is freed." 

I had felt no concern as to whether she slept or not, 
until this assertion made me wonder why her sleep- 
ing was required. As far as I was concerned the dis^ 
tressing happenings of the evening had "murdered 
sleep." Also it was Tuesday night, with the hand of 
fate pointing toward the end of uncertainty. 

"Yes," I mentally admitted, "this is Tuesday night 
and there will be no more." 

"Yes," echoed a voice, "but other Tuesday nights 
have found you equally assured." This had a damp- 
ening effect on my assurance but a rousing effect on 
my resentment. The thought of another week with- 
out the strength to endure it appalled me. Weak 
though I was I sat up in bed and looked out the win- 
dow on the soft moonlit night, felt the gulf breezes 
on my already cold face and shivered. Oh, the 
wretchedness of it all! Weak and trembling I sat 
huddled up, with my arms about my knees, review- 



1^6 How I Know That 

ing the events of the agonizing weeks that had passed, 
feeling anew resentment that this strange, strong 
strong force held me, making a plaything of my earn- 
estness, causing me to wound and annoy those who 
loved me and whose love I cherished ; holding me in 
the weak subjective condition of semi-illness, causing 
me to act as directed with all the earnestness of my 
soul only to be rewarded with deception and disap- 
pointment. I could not reconcile the events leading 
up to this night with the continuation of mundane 
existence. When I thought of the irony of the voice 
my very soul cried out in darkness : 

*'Why can't you be fair with me?" 

Out of the stillness came a calm voice in rebuke : 

"Can you not yet discern between truth and de- 
ception?" 

"Forgive me," I whispered, contritely, "you 
know how weary I am." A flood of joy burst upon 
me and again the controlling Power held me passive. 

Slowly I turned, adjusted the pillows, arranged 
my night clothing comfortably, shook my hair loose, 
pushed the covers away so they would not touch me 
and lay down, first in one position, then in another, 
in a vain effort to get comfortable. 

As a soft hand pressed my forehead and caressed 
my hair a voice said tenderly: 

"Remember the light beyond the darkness." 

"Yes, the beacon light beyond Gethsemane," and 
I seemed to see it again nearer and more luminous 
than before. 

"Peace be thine," came like a benediction, falling 
on the soft stillness ; all weariness was gone and my 
soul was bathing itself in the floodtide of resignation 
as I whispered: 



The Dead Are Alive 157 

''I am thine, Oh, God, do with me as thou wilt/* 
and closing my eyes in a resignation that was abso- 
lute, I realized that I was very cold with a coldness 
that held my hands and feet numb within its icy em- 
brace. Then chilly waves touched my heart, slowing 
its pace. Little lights like miniature stars rose in the 
white cloud firmament that had formed in the room; 
the tiniest electric flashes, blue tinged, came and 
went; waves of soft variegated colors, undulating 
amid the whiteness, were spreading themselves into 
delicate tints; the air was perceptibly charged with 
electricity, the room vibrant with it and I was con- 
scious of almost imperceptible shocks which gave an 
apprehensive feeling lest a real shock come. Then 
what seemed little detached electric lights, illuminat- 
ed the whiteness in a most weird and fantastic man- 
ner during which time the shocks became quite dis- 
tinct. Then into the electrified whiteness came forms 
and faces of ethereal, light-emitting, self-illuminat- 
ing beings wrapped in ever-moving silvery vapor, 
that tinted everything with silver. White, transparent 
hands appeared only to hide themselves again with- 
in the mist, where faces, ever changing, were coming 
and going. Floating within the silvery mist were the 
faces of my parents. Lillian was there, too, with her 
happy, smiling face, near enough for me to touch. 
There came others I had known in the earth life 
smiling in welcome recognition. Dream faces came 
and went and voices chanted in harmony with the 
''choir invisible" while I felt a conscious at-one-ness 
with the manifestations which surrounded me. 

Then slowly there came down an unconfined elec- 
tric-laden lightness, which spread over me, touching 
me at first cautiously and lightly with an undulating 
movement, which caused perceptible shocks. It 



158 How I Know That 

would touch me and draw away when the shocks be- 
came too pronounced, only to return and repeat the 
process again and again until finally the shocks were 
no longer perceptible and I had the sensation of being 
a part of them, of being electrified, as it were. Then 
with a vibrating, quivering movement it spread itself 
over my body, enveloping me entirely, holding me 
within itself, as it settled down with a suggestion of 
permanency. It was with considerable wonder I 
tried to analyze this strange scintillating, vital, living 
essence. It was a live thing without any sign of life, 
I could see it without seeing it, feel it without feeling 
it, as it held me in its magnetized embrace; it gave 
the impression of the very essence of power, occupy- 
ing unlimited space, inter-penetrating all things in- 
definable yet holding all things subject to its law. It 
was a kind of white fire but without the faintest sug- 
gestion of fire as we know it. 

^'Can this wonderful — this beautiful thing be 
death?" 

'^It is birth — there is no death," voices chanted 
back and in unison with these musical voices, I joined 
in "It is birth — there is no death," which lifted my 
soul higher and higher in wonderful realization. 

I knew it was what we term "death" — the separa- 
tion of the soul and body, that which we look upon as 
something horrible, a thing to be avoided at all costs 
and as long as possible; yet I held it to me as the 
most wonderful and beautiful experience that life 
had ever given me. 

I knew I was "going out" — drifting out over the 
borderland, through the Channel of Death unto the 
Sea of Life Everlasting, which is supposed to give 
up its mysteries only to those who sail upon its waters. 

I could feel my blood turning cold — could feel the 



The Dead Are Alive 159 

physical body growing heavy and still. There was 
not even a suggestion of pain. Then I was conscious 
of something moving, something struggling within 
and knew it was the ''shadow" body struggling for re- 
lease — the soul freeing itself from its prison of flesh. 

Little lapses of consciousness came and went as the 
''Shadow" body adjusted and readjusted its sails and 
helm in conformity with the beacon light ahead, as 
the shore it was leaving became dimmer and dimmer. 
Suddenly it stopped upon the "still waters" of the 
channel and as seabird to its mate, it called to a 
loved one who remained on the darkening shore, 
"good-bye, my love." While lingering in regret 
that the voice could not span the distance between 
them, the beloved face seemed to come and mingle 
with the dream faces within the silvery mist, just 
as though it were one of them instead of a human 
being in the earth life. Again the magic word 
"good-bye" was whispered and the departing soul 
then renewed its struggles against the tides of the 
receding shore, with eyes fixed on the beacon light 
beyond the dark channel. 

Night began "casting shadows before," hiding the 
dream faces, obscuring the lights, hushing the music. 
Then suddenly came an impact in the right side, de- 
fined but painless, causing a perceptible start. 

The night was come — it was dark, so dark — I was 
alone on the mystic sea of the silence. 

"Welcome to Death, 
If thou, oh. Death, a being art, draw near 

And let me clasp thee; for I hold thee dear. 
1 shall extract eternal life from thee; 

Thou cans't but snatch this worn out dress from 
me." 



i6o How I Know That 

CHAPTER XIX. 
OVER THE BORDERLAND. 

It was very dark and I was wondering where the 
dream faces had gone — where the lights were — in 
fact, what had happened. 

In my perplexity I began casting vaguely about 
but there was nothing to touch. It was all space, 
just empty space — and the bed, where was it? It 
dawned upon me that I was suspended somewhere, 
somehow; and from that base I began trying to make 
observations. All about and above me I could see 
nothing, but fancy my astonishment if you can, when 
looking down, I saw my body resting peacefully on 
the bed, representing what is commonly called a 
^'dead person." I could not move my eyes from it; 
it fascinated me as it lay in the cold whiteness, robed 
in a gown of lavendar silk, with dainty laces and 
ruffles. The neck and arms were bare, as were the 
feet; the hair lay loose and disheveled, with little 
brown curls on the white forehead. The deep blue 
^'windows of the soul," the eyes, were at half mast; 
the soul being absent the light was gone; the lips, 
slightly parted wore just a suggestion of a smile; the 
left hand rested lightly on the breast — the engage- 
ment ring scintillating as brightly as ever; the right, 
which no doubt had been lifted unconsciously at the 
shock of impact, had fallen a little apart from the 
body and lay, palm upturned. How peaceful it 
looked ! Thus every detail of the clay image fastened 
itself upon my consideration as I viewed it dispas- 
sionately, realizing that it was a cast-off garment for 



The Dead Are Alive i6i 

which I had no further use. However, I felt a pro- 
tective kindliness toward it; it had been a faithful 
servant, executing my every wish and whim and now 
that I had passed beyond the range of its services, it 
pleased my fancy to robe it in the white, pearl-be- 
decked dress, the wearing of which, had meant so 
much to me in quite a different way. 

A disturbing thought obtruded itself — how differ- 
ently he would look upon that which I was contem- 
plating with complacency! This changed the focus 
of my interest and I turned my eyes away in the dark- 
ness, with the desire heavy upon me to go to him and 
let him know that I still lived — that it was "not all 
of life to live nor all of death to die;" that the pas- 
sage across the dark channel intensifies rather than 
abates love. As though responding to my thought I 
felt myself moving, or being propelled by a vibra- 
tory sensation. It seemed to last but a moment. Then 
I stopped and, instinctively looking down, I saw 
sleeping beneath me the object of my solicitude. As 
1 looked upon him I saw the shadow body more dis- 
tinctly than the physical. Viewed from the other 
side of life, the '^shadow" body seemed the original 
and the physical the duplicate, the soul the real, the 
body the unreal. Within and interpenetrating all 
was a light, which I had not before perceived as be- 
ing a part of the spiritual anatomy. This light pene- 
trated from within, both the shadow and physical 
bodies, maintaining through and about the body an 
aura or illumination which enveloped it; clothing 
it, as it were, in a magnetized illumination. How 
wonderful this three-in-one life-manifestation 
seemed, especially when we generally recognize only 
the one — the physical! 



i62 How I Know That 

Someway, how different he seemed! It was like 
a mental vivisection. Yet the difference of view- 
point was the only difiference, I concluded, as I 
moved a little nearer and called low so that I might 
not startle him from his slumber. 

^'Dearest, I am here," I said mentally, in the very 
same way that I had conversed with the invisibles 
before my transition, but he slept on. His soul which 
was not sleeping responded joyously and tried to help 
me pass the perception of my presence into his physi- 
cal consciousness. He moaned and turned restlessly 
in his sleep, as I called to him again and again. Then 
in a disturbed way, he moved and called out: 

"Fanny, Fanny," as wide awake he sat up in bed, 
and said: 

"Such dreams — I deamed she was dead." So he 
had really heard without recognizing it. 

Now that he was awake I came yet a little nearer, 
confident that he would see and hear me, for I stood 
very near him and called softly: "I am here, dear," 
but he only seemed more restless and sighed more 
deeply. Then with nervous impatience he turned 
on the light, reached for his glasses and a magazine 
which were on the stand beside his bed, muttering: 

"Such a night — no rest — no sleep." He was think- 
ing sorrowfully of the possibility of my death as he 
adjusted his glasses, turned one of the pillows on 
end to make his head higher, and settled down to 
read, despite the fact that I stood near, calling to 
him, charging the very atmosphere with sentiment 
and eagerness. In a hurt way I drew back and sud- 
denly, as though for the first time, the full realization 
came upon me, and in an awed way, I whispered to 
myself : 



The Dead Are Alive 163 

'^I am dead, that is why he cannot hear and see 
me," and yet I felt more alive than I had ever felt. I 
was the same person in every way. There was some- 
thing pitiably painful about being so near one be- 
loved, seeing him plainly and hearing him distinctly, 
even knowing that he was thinking of me, and yet 
having him utterly ignore my presence, and above 
all knowing that he would never recognize me again 
— never hear my voice no matter how ardently I 
called, while I was the same in every way minus the 
physical body. 

Then I fell to wondering why he could not hear 
or see me and perceived that the vibratory environ- 
ment in which I was held did not harmonize with 
that which encompassed him, yet touched so inti- 
mately that even as I watched, I hoped for a har- 
monious blending of these vibratory waves, which 
gave the impression of '^cross currents" in the sea. 
Mine was the vibration of perpetual motion — his 
more like a "dead sea" into which these vibratory 
currents ebbed and flowed, and it seemed such an 
easy matter to move out of the "deadness" into the 
"ebb and flow" that I waited and watched a long time 
before I realized that he would make no effort to do 
so. With this realization full upon me, I looked at 
him calmly, without expecting him to see or to hear, 
acknowledging that my mission had failed and wish- 
ing that I could explain it all to him. Looking down 
into his troubled face, I moved a little nearer and 
called to him again without expecting any response : 

"Au revoir, my love — until we meet again." Then 
with a strange soul sadness I turned away and would 
have moved on when I perceived the vibratory force 
was holding me, steadily restraining any further 



164 How I Know That 

movement. I began to wonder and to chide myself 
for mundane interests beyond which I realized I had 
passed. Persistently the force held me, as though in- 
viting me to further consideration of earth interests, 
but I had none. My material possessions were dis- 
posed of as I desired; there was no life-work I was 
leaving incomplete; I had no children, no one de- 
pending on me ; nothing held me to the earth. My 
desire had been to go beyond it and now that I had 
done so, I was well pleased and wanted to go on to 
the joys I felt awaited me beyond the influence of 
the earth. Yet the force held me, try as I would to 
pass beyond it, until, instead of struggling against 
it, I tried to understand it — to wrest from it its reason 
for thus detaining me, feeling that there must be some 
reason for such marked persistence. Almost instant- 
ly the lesson sank into my consciousness and I rea- 
lized that the long arm of mundane interests can 
reach into the Beyond and hold its victims within the 
shadow of earth — pitting its magnetism against the 
promise of higher things. 

Then I was moving easily in an undulating way, 
within the propelling vibration and when I stopped 
darkness enveloped me — not a sight nor a sound — 
just oppressive heavy darkness, with the sensation of 
being alone in eternity weighing heavily upon me, as 
I waited in awesome uncertainty. 

At first this darkness was appalling, the silence op- 
pressive; but I was not long in perceiving that this, 
too, had its part to play in the great scheme of things, 
as I could feel a wonderful, new strength manifesting 
within me. My sight grew, until it overcame the 
darkness and I perceived that I was not alone nor 
was it dark — that the darkness had been within me 



The Dead Are Alive 165 

and could be eliminated only from within. There 
were loved ones and many others welcoming me and 
rejoicing that I was with them. Meon also was there 
at which I rejoiced exceedingly, feeling vaguely that 
where he was there could be no uncertainty. How 
carefree and light I felt! 

Again came that indescribable sensation of being 
held within that electric-laden, living light that had 
come upon and enveloped me, just before my transi- 
tion. It now gave the impression of a kind of invis- 
ible, living elevator. It was still holding me within 
itself with all of its electrified, weird, vibratory 
power and I wondered that it was no longer a light. 
As I wondered, it emitted a faint blue-tinged illum- 
ination, giving the impression that it was a light, only 
as it elected, or occasion required. 

As I quivered within the strangeness of it all, 
Meon fastened his dark, luminous eyes upon me, and 
asked solemnly: 

^'And having come, whither goest thou?" Rather 
a disturbing question one must admit when I was 
trying to adjust myself to the condition of having 
come! And now I was to go? I remember feeling 
that if he did not know any more about it than I did, 
we were in a more deplorable plight than the ^'Babes 
in the Woods." As I deliberated, not altogether 
pleased at assuming such a colossal responsibility, 
Meon, knowing my thoughts, interrupted : 

'^Weaver of thy Freedom, Choose." Again that 
phrase! — it had followed me even into eternity which 
fact I half resented but since I was confronted with 
choosing my destiny, in a world of which I knew 
nothing, and since hope had painted beautiful and 
alluring pictures of a soul's ideal; feeling that the 



i66 How I Know That 

time had come for ideals to become real, I cried out 
in exultation: 

'^To the very highest Heaven." 

''That is well," he made answer evenly, as the 
electrified vibrations began manifesting and he stood 
in a listening attitude which I simulated. In a mo- 
ment I distinctly heard the word "Come" and with 
a soft, bluish light playing about and enveloping us, 
we floated out on the undulating waves of space. 



The Dead Are Alive 167 

CHAPTER XX. 
THE RED DARKNESS. 

As we floated I noted that the vibratory waves by 
which we were propelled were not unlike those 
which had propelled my hand to write independent- 
ly of my direction and realized that the same power 
was, in like manner, propelling my body through 
space. 

And so we went on until I could see fringing the 
darkness red light or rather a red darkness, which 
held my attention until we came within it when the 
sensation of being among many excluded all other 
considerations. I was listening, trying to hear what 
they were saying but the vibrations were evidently 
not in harmony, so I could not hear distinctly, and 
after a long time of vain effort I turned to Meon, and 
asked : 

''What place is this?" 

"Let Perception be your teacher," he replied curt- 

ly. 

''Tell me, please," I persisted, with increasing in- 
terest. 

"Ask no questions — that which is for you to know 
will be given without asking." 

Thus rebuked I took refuge in silence. Then — 
surely I was mistaken — it was only fancy, a horrible 
fancy, those agonizing groans and cries! But slowly 
a terrible knowledge sifted into my consciousness — I 
knew what a burdensome thing memory could be 
and listening carefully I learned many other thingi 
from the environment about me. 



1 68 How I Know That 

'^Are we near the earth?" I asked, feeling con- 
vinced that we were. 

''Yes, within its magnetism or spiritual gravita- 
tion." 

''Why are these beings detained here?" 

"They are not detained. Some desire it while 
others are not yet strong enough to progress beyond 
it." 

"Why?" 

"Earth's interests hold them." 

I would have questioned further but remembered 
what Meon had said and restrained myself, feeling 
grateful for the information that he had given and 
turning again to Perception, as my teacher. 

As I listened discriminatingly I heard cries of the 
"might have been;" of lives wasted in the making; 
of derelicts tossed by the waves of circumstances ; of 
those who had failed creatures depending on them; 
cries of vengeance unexecuted ; of vengeance execut 
ed; of crimes unpardonable and unpardoned; earth 
ties of weakness ; a consuming love of earth and the 
pleasures thereof ; of those who wanted to go back if 
only for an hour to right wrongs they had fastened 
upon some earth being; of those who were afraid to 
go on and wanted to come back. Horrible to listen 
to and pitiful to contemplate. There was no bar to 
their going on but they did not want to; some did 
not know they could. It was the earth that attracted 
them — the earth that held them — they felt they could 
not give up the earth life. So intimately was the con- 
nection between this place and the earth that I could 
hear living, loving human beings of earth, because 
of these invisible influences, crying out in their 
anguish in a hopeless way; could hear them saying, 



The Dead Are Alive 169 

"Earth is Hell — Earth is Hell," as they suffered on 
without knowing the cause. 

In this dark earth-magnetized region disembodied 
spirits lived the mundane existence much as the psy- 
chic lives the spiritual while yet in the mundane — 
one is progression, the other retrogression. Disem- 
bodied spirits living the mundane life do so at the 
expense of human beings in the earth life, while the 
mundane person living the spiritual life is obeying 
the law of evolution and progression. 

It is this condition which requires discrimination 
on the part of the investigator. 

I heard the voices, felt the touches of these dere- 
licts, outcasts and fallen creatures of the Spirit 
World and my heart cried out in pity for them as I 
wondered if this condition was permanent or by what 
process this spiritual blindness was treated. As I 
wondered my perception quickened, enlarging my 
spiritual vision and I saw descending into the redness 
spirits of love and mercy illuminating the way as 
they came down, calling, calling as they came and 
while all of the submerged had not yet acquired spir- 
itual hearing some had and I could hear an occa- 
sional answering voice struggling up from the vor- 
tex, ''I am coming," and I knew that some were pass- 
ing beyond it. Also I was given to know what a 
powerful influence earth beings could exert in send- 
ing them on their journey instead of permitting them 
to exercise influence and propensities at their ex- 
pense. Then and there I wanted to tell the suffer- 
ing, toiling creatures of earth that they were not com- 
pelled to submit to such influences; that no matter 
how strong the influence of evil is, the God principle 
incorporated within every human being is stronger. 



ijo How I Know That 

making us superior to all other forces. If we could 
only recognize this within ourselves — this divine es- 
sence that makes us one with the source of all life, 
power and infinitude we could not only free our souls 
from uncertainty, our bodies from disease, plague, 
madness, murders and unhappiness but could help 
these souls of darkness to turn toward the light into 
the vibratory waves of progression and realize that 
"Knowledge is the wings wherewith 
We fly to Heaven." 

The one thing I would like to impress upon every 
one is there is no soul irretrievably lost, no matter 
how many aeons it may remain in darkness (and long 
and many are the journeys some make before the 
light of truth floods their consciousness). 

As I was vibrating about trying to learn all I could 
of the place I became aware that souls were passing 
on, going beyond this Red Darkness, and I in turn 
was filled with a desire to pass beyond it. Then 
came a chilling fear — horror of horrors — ^was this 
my destination? 

Meon relieved my suspense promptly: 

"Did not the Christ descend into this place before 
his ascension?" 

The word "Hell" intruded itself upon my con- 
sciousness although there was nothing suggestive of 
the orthodox Hell of fire and brimstone. It was red 
but certainly not fire, nor did it have any of the at- 
tributes of fire. I could not shake off the conviction 
that it was Hell none the less — made up of souls who, 
while on earth, had been so entirely dominated by 
the flesh, that the separation from that domination, 
caused them in their very soul weakness to look back 
upon the physical as a thing superior to themselves. 



The Dead Are Alive 171 

Feeling assured that I was not to remain in this 
environment, I went boldly further into the dark- 
ness, as if to wrest every secret from it, but I had not 
gone far when a voice from the very depths arrested 
me and I fell back listening and a voice unlike any 
I had yet heard was saying: 

''Earth's sins gave this place existence; earth's 
magnetism maintains it." 

Somehow I did not care to penetrate any further 
and grew retrospective. ''Descended into Hell," 
kept recurring to me until it became my theme of 
thought. I remembered (a memory not altogether 
pleasant just then) that that had been one of my 
stock and, according to my version, most effective 
arguments against the existence of the Christ. I re- 
called the number of Gods or Christs that according 
to Theological History (and Mythological) had 
"descended into Hell and risen again the third day." 
There were Krishna, the Hindoo God; Zoroaster, 
the Persian God; Osiris, Egyptian God; Baldur, 
Scandinavian God; Quetzalcoatle, Mexican God; 
as well as the virgin-born saviors Horus, Adonis, 
Bacchus, Hercules and Mercury, the Word and 
Messenger of God. Many Christs in many different 
religions. There was the beautiful story of Lord 
Buddha. Meon interrupted gently: 

"To all nations has been given their ideal man — 
their teacher, as an example of man's possibilities. 
One for the whole world will now suffice but when 
these ideals came nations knew less of each other than 
they did of God." 

What a difference one's viewpoint can make of the 
same circumstances! In the Christ argument that 



172 How I Know That 

which had been the ultimate in the negative now oc- 
cupied the same position in the affirmative. 

As I pondered over these things I felt myself again 
within the vibratory propelling force and heard the 
word, ''Come." 

I regret a sense of duty compels me to incorporate 
within a book the undesirable condition just de- 
scribed. I would choose, were the choice mine, to 
embody only that which is beautiful and uplifting. 
Personally, I have always opposed the theory of evil, 
believing with Shakespeare, "Nothing is evil but 
thinking makes it so," but in our daily lives when we 
face facts instead of theories we know that evil (call 
it what you will — that which is disagreeable to us) 
exists, regardless of what our theories may or may 
not be. We admit that evil has no power except what 
we give it; and yet we know that every day we cope 
with something that tries to tear us away from our 
ideals and standards of life, making us realize that 
''The post of honor is a private station," while we go 
on living our double lives — the lives we intend to live 
and the lives we really live. 



The Dead Are Alive 173 

CHAPTER XXI. 
"THE POWER HOUSE OF EXISTENCE." 

There were many questions I would have asked 
Meon as we went along but felt instinctively that it 
would be useless, as he had advised, ^^Let perception 
be your teacher," therefore I was acting in accord- 
ance in so far as I could. 

All about me the air was charged with moving be- 
ings, going ever onward, some going swiftly, while 
others plodded along as though their burdens had 
not been sufficiently lightened for the requirements 
of the journey. 

While noting all this I discovered that I could see 
back of me, to the right or to the left as easily as I 
could in front, as though my body saw as well as my 
eyes. This strange new faculty of observation grad- 
ually increased my scope of vision. 

Far out beyond the red-fringed darkness I could 
see light, in which rainbows seemed to play, pale as 
the dawn, of a gray-weird loveliness, coming and go- 
ing as though flirting with the darkness, for to em- 
brace it would be to destroy. For delicate beauty it 
seemed I had never seen anything more fascinating 
or alluring than this kiss of the dawn and the dark- 
ness in the Soul world — it was like life kissing death 
goodbye. 

With this mystical and lovely dawn of another 
world upon me, I lost in the witchery of it, we landed 
suddenly on what had every appearance of being an 
earth. There were houses, flowers, trees ; everything 



174 How I Know Thai 

was so life-like it amazed me. I almost fancied I 
had returned to earth. The light was dim as of the 
dawn and a cool peaceful gentleness permeated 
everything, as the inhabitants moved about in a free, 
easy and unrestrained way. They conversed with 
me as though they considered me a spirit of the high- 
er world, asking me questions of the "life to come," 
as we might of one who comes from the realms be- 
yond the earth. They were full of faith, love and 
certainty as to an "after life" and seemed spiritually 
far in advance of the earth, yet they were perfectly 
familiar with earth-life and its conditions, evidently 
having lived on earth, nor were they entirely free 
from the magnetism of earth interests, as I saw some 
going earthward, as though drawn by something of 
paramount importance. They would dive, as it 
were, quickly and easily, into the Red Darkness and 
gradually become one with its redness. 

While there seemed no doubt that these people 
once inhabited the earth, I saw no one I had ever 
known in this life. They had possibly progressed 
there out of the darkness and would go back to help 
those less fortunate into the higher condition which 
they had attained. 

As I wondered at it all, the dimness of the soft, 
silvery light and other things which I did not under- 
stand, a voice came : 

"To eyes grown accustomed to the darkness this 
light is brilliant." 

"It is beautiful — very beautiful" I said, as the ad- 
mitted mercy of its softness, added to its loveliness, 
held me in mystic dreaminess until the command 
"come" called me beyond its environment and I went 
wondering — and I am still wondering. 



The Dead Are Alive 175 

For my own convenience I called this place of ex- 
istence the "Dawn World/' for so it seemed, as it was 
there the light began to neutralize the darkness for 
those whose nights had been very long and whose 
dreams had been bad. 

As we vibrated onward in the ever increasing light 
passing silent shadow cities under the radiance of 
great orbs, we seemed to be riding on the very air in 
company with countless thousands, everything vi- 
brating onward in perpetual motion. 

So enchanting was this riding on vibratory waves 
of space (not entirely unlike those of the sea) in a 
gentle mndulatory way, that I felt like going on for- 
ever, and forever, never tiring, never stopping but 
after abandoning myself to the witchery of it for 
some time, I perceived the vibrations changing, 
merging into a quivering sensation, even more ex- 
quisite, and then, as if a part of it, my feet came upon 
something different, something firm and reliable, as 
one 

"Treads upon the void and finds 
The rock beneath." 

Wonderful was the sight that met my enraptured 
gaze ! A city of light and of whiteness, boundless in 
expanse. I walked in this place very much as I had 
on earth, for it seemed I had reached the limit of 
my ability to float in space, it seemed that I was 
heavier than my surroundings in some way. Every- 
where were the most exalted souls I had yet seen. 
Some came forward and greeted us, addressing Meon 
as though he were one of them, and then, together, 
we entered into a building immeasurable in space 
and height, the veritable soul of architectural mag- 



176 How I Know That 

nificence. The material had the transparency of 
glass of a variegated whiteness, into which colors, 
harmonizing in the most delicate way, were coming 
and going, ever changing. Electricity seemed to be 
the power which held it all together, as the electric 
blue would merge into violet and play incessantly, in 
a serpentine way, into which almost imperceptible 
yellowish streams seemed to flow. It was self-illum- 
inated. This is not a very accurate description but 
really I am not master of the words that it requires, 
so we will just have to let it go at that, with the hope 
that some day, when we are more familiar with such 
matters, some enterprising person will compile a 
dictionary for the convenience of those who will 
write describing our future homes. 

The floor was even more transparent, with less 
color, and vibrated as the beating of a pulse. Tread- 
ing upon it sent strange thrills through my entire 
body, as though harmonizing the body with its mag- 
netism. At first this was not altogether a pleasant 
sensation but after getting into harmony with it all 
mysteries seemed dissolved ; the very atmosphere ex- 
uded knowledge, free and flowing for the mentality 
to feed upon as there is only the mentality to sus- 
tain ; just as in the earth life, air is free and flowing 
to give breath to the physical body. 

It seemed that all the wisdom of all the ages was 
mine as I stood there. Life and death gave up their 
mysteries, and I no longer wondered but observed as 
one who understood. The machinery of earth exist- 
ence was operated and regulated by and through the 
power of this plane. It was actually in contact with 
the earth. No happening on earth escaped the ob- 
servation of the great spirits who seemed to have 



The Dead Are Alive 177 

nothing else to do but watch over the beings of earth, 
to teach them, to lift them up, to protect and help 
them up through the darkness; watch over reincar- 
nations, create teachers and place them where they 
were most needed. With these teachers they were 
in direct communication at all times and knew exact- 
ly what was going on through some form of wireless 
telegraphy or telephony, perhaps, but they commun- 
icated as though there were no distance. They 
seemed to draw the highly evolved souls of earth up 
to them mentally, and these cooperated consciously, 
responding unerringly. It was marvelous to watch 
the process or rather processes, as there were many 
phases of this supervision. They were coming and 
going all the time. I saw many go out and disappear 
into the depths, all rejoicing in their work, the up- 
lifting of humanity. The souls were countless, the 
space immeasurable, yet there was no confusion — it 
was system idealized, each recognizing his mission 
and doing it. Truly it was the Christ principle man- 
ifested, for they were laboring for others, not them- 
selves. 

For my own convenience I designated this place, 
''The Power House of Existence" and even now I 
cannot think of anything more appropriate, so we 
will just let' it go at that. 

Once again I was conscious of being held within 
that great self-illuminating electrified current that 
had made itself manifest all along the way. Now, it 
not only held me but interpenetrated, holding within 
itself even this great ''power house" which had so 
impressed me with its importance that it seemed 
there could be nothing greater. I looked with a new 
interest upon the living fluid within it, saw it spread- 



178 How I Know That 

ing itself out before me, going out into the violet-gold 
space, illuminating as it went, lighting up the dark- 
ness, even the red darkness, until I could see the far 
away earth, small in the distance ; and could see souls 
all along the way held within its magnetized em- 
brace, could see it touch the earth in the same care- 
ful, vibratory way that it had touched my body, an 
atom of earth. And again I ayked myself — what is 
this invisible, silent ghost-like power that seems to 
be the living essence in everything? Suddenly it 
either greatly magnified the earth or gave me tele- 
scopic vision, for I could see the earth plainly, could 
feel it vibrate and tremble in unison with the "Power 
House" in which I stood, and up through this living 
current I could hear the voices of its people. Over 
all was a sense of a living connection between this 
place and the earth, as the darkness slowly obscured 
the earth and my vision passed out of harmonious 
vibrations with the electrified essence. While my 
senses lost sight of its presence there was something 
within me that made me know that there was no such 
thing as passing beyond its influence, as it interpene- 
trated all things. I still looked down into the blue- 
gold space without seeing, but the earth had taken on 
a new interest for me. Those about me had spoken 
of it as the most important phase of existence and I 
wondered how I could have been so blindly indiffer- 
ent while the privilege of its existence was upon me. 
That hitherto obscure phrase, "The Brotherhood of 
Man," (which theory I had often laughed to scorn) 
prodded me with its importance. There had been 
something glorious in the recognition and admission 
of my oneness with God, Infinitude; but now I knew 
that I must also recognize and admit, in the same 



The Dead Are Alive 179 

way, my oneness with mankind for ^'God has made 
of one blood all nations of men." And even yet fur- 
ther was the acknowledgment of my oneness with all 
living things, animate and inanimate; for the inani- 
mate evolutes into the animate, the animate into 
animals, animals into man and man into God; ''The 
race of men and God is one." Man is as God and 
exercises the God perogative to that which is in the 
scale below him and dependent on him; recognition 
of and action in accordance with this responsibility 
would greatly facilitate the problem of existence. 
Nor is there any sex in soul — the same soul some- 
times functions as a male — sometimes as a female in 
the cycles of reincarnation. Referring to reincarna- 
tion, every step I took fastened its reality more firm- 
ly on me. It is, to me, the only explanation of the 
inequalities of life as I saw them all along the way. 
Reincarnation is the key to evolution — evolution the 
key to existence in an individualized way. 

A great new love was in my heart for the people 
and the living things of earth. I sorrowed deeply 
because of their blindness, which caused most of their 
unhappiness and desired to go back and tell them 
what I had seen and what I knew that it might al- 
leviate conditions in even the smallest way. A voice 
interrupted as I meditated: 

"The first flush of the sunrise is even now upon the 
earth." 

This, however, did not deter me in my desire to go 
back. In fact, I gave very little thought as to the 
meaning of the sentence. The desire to go back was 
growing, becoming more and more intense until it 
seemed as I stood looking far down into the fathom- 
less space, that I could hear the earth calling me — 



i8o How I Know That 

calling me, strange fantasy! With this desire full 
upon me, I turned to Meon and said: 

"Meon, I want to go back." 

He made no answer but looked at me with a 
strange triumph in his eyes, saying : 

^^Come." 

Forthwith we moved from the earth's registration 
center and went higher up within the same environ- 
ment where the influence of the earth was not felt 
so intimately. A great soul came forward as I went 
in and asked just as though I had told him : 

"And you would return to earth?" 

"Yes ; if by so doing I could accomplish good." 

"Suppose you could not, would you try regardless 
of what it might mean to you?" 

"I am not considering myself — I want others to 
know what I know; it would make life so splendidly 
different." 

"Suppose they would not believe you?" 

"I would like to give them the opportunity, 
whether they would or not." 

"Did the welfare of the people always interest 
you?" 

"No." 

"What has caused this change of sentiment?" 

"Your splendid example and the process by which 
I have been shown earth's necessity." 

"Would you suffer torture that another might pass 
into freedom?" 

"I feel that I would endure anything that would 
uplift humanity." 

"All experience that sensation when it is too late," 
said the voice sorrowfully and I was left alone with 
my new born desire, which did not change but rather 



The Dead Are Alive 1 8 1 

intensified, despite the discouraging remark that had 
concluded the interview. I felt almost rebellious, 
as though I would go back anyway regardless of all 
opposition or opinions to the contrary and tell what 
I knew regardless as to whether people believed it 
or not. 

Alone, removed from the direct influence of the 
earth and the great spirits, I viewed the matter dis- 
passionately from all points, and the more I thought 
of it the more enamored I became of the project and 
the more determined in its execution, at the same 
time fully realizing that there were other forces to 
be taken into consideration in a co-operative sense, 
for in the great scheme of things there is no inde- 
pendence; 

^*A11 are parts of one stupendous whole 
Whose body nature is and God the soul." 

Alone in that ether-electricity, one with the very 
soul of things, in the intensity of my desire to return 
to earth with a message of knowledge and love, I 
lifted my eyes and there before me was a familiar 
face — the one I had seen in the garden before leav- 
ing the earth place; the agony was gone out of the 
face and it was radiant with love and promise, at the 
sight of which my soul rose up in pleading and I 
cried out: 

"Let it be so — let it be so," and again I was alone 
with bowed head, the intensity of the desire burning 
within me, feeling that it was not in vain; for some- 
thing deep down within me was saying: "Christ, too, 
is going back." 



1 82 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XXII. 
PANORAMA OF LIFE AS LIVED ON EARTH. 

When I again raised my eyes, vibrating directly 
before me was a little light, so tiny that, at first, I 
ignored it, but its persistence and magnetic attraction 
compelled my attention, which I gave rather reluct- 
antly at first, then eagerly as it began shaping itself 
into something. As it vibrated it would disappear 
downward only to reappear larger and brighter than 
before. What was the meaning of it? 

Then it appeared several times, illuminating dif- 
ferent human faces, alternating male and female. It 
was not unlike a moving picture. Now it seemed to 
stand still before me larger and brighter than ever 
and more compelling in its attractiveness. As it 
started vibrating, a small, white, diaphanous, globe- 
like formation appeared around it and grew with it. 
In the growing it was no longer a tiny light within a 
tiny globe; it was a pretty, delicate baby face that 
smiled innocently into mine. So tiny and helpless it 
was that it appealed to me. Then I was given to 
know that this bit of humanity represented myself as 
I had come into this cycle of earth existence. As I 
gazed upon it, it merged into a doll-faced curly- 
haired, blue-eyed girl, incorporated within which I 
could still see the little light, bright and radiating, 
within the globe of White, which was within a 
"shadow" body, that in turn, interpenetrated and 
grew with the physical. 

School days came and I heard people saying "she 
is the brightest girl in school." Still she grew as the 



The Dead Are Alive 183 

little light within glowed in harmony with the great 
light that interpenetrates all things. 

At this stage of the metamorphosic process I rea- 
lized that it was truly myself, as I recognized the in- 
cidents portrayed as pages from the book of my 
schooldays, just as my memory retained them. Yet, 
I was looking upon this creature dispassionately, just 
as though it were someone else and in describing it I 
shall do so as if it were. It is so much easier to write 
in the third person, to say nothing of sparing the 
reader a whole life history of Fs. 

We will go back and take up this frail little crea- 
ture as she revels in music, the one grand passion be- 
fore which all things else seem as nothing. It holds 
her in bondage to itself, as she grows in the joy and 
mastery of it. How the little, white fingers, too small 
to span an octave, subconsciously caught fragments 
from the ^^choir invisible" and imprisoned them on 
the piano! 

At college the last practice period in the evening 
was in what was termed the '^haunted music room," 
where most of the girls dared not go after nightfall, 
so demoralizing was the story of the haunt but there 
was something about the mystery of it that appealed 
to this girl and made her prefer it to any of the other 
rooms, although the piano was the most ill-toned as 
well as ill-tuned in school. And now I even saw the 
ghost of the old music room standing beside her as 
she played — after all there was a ghost, regardless of 
the fact that she had laughed to scorn the idea. How 
strange it seemed to actually see it now after all these 
years! 

With the coming of young womanhood I saw fall- 
ing upon her a mantle which was labeled ^'SELF 



184 How I Know That 

RESPONSIBILITY." It came upon her sudden- 
ly, covering her from head to feet, yet she was as un- 
conscious of its coming as she was of its potentiality 
and went on just as though it had not come. As it 
spread itself upon her there appeared before her 
three roads; one was labeled ''GOOD" one "EVIL" 
and the other, the center, was unlabeled. There 
were thousands treading the center road where there 
were hundreds on the others. There were many more 
upon the road of ''Good" than upon that of "Evil." 
These roads were guarded by invisible creatures, ac- 
cording to the indicated propensities of each, who 
were always calling to those who traveled in the cen- 
ter, in an endeavor to influence them to more de- 
termined tendencies. Ever and anon there were 
paths leading from the center to the outer roads and 
from one outer road to the other, showing how easily 
one can change ones course at will. 

I saw the girl's feet upon the unmarked road, saw 
her disappear in the onward moving rush and heard 
the voices calling, calling to those who heeded and 
those who heeded not. 

When she came before me again there were two 
great shadows — twin shadows, as it were, hovering 
over her. One was labeled "Ambition," the other 
"Selfishness," and under cover of these shadows I 
saw her dreaming, dreaming, ever dreaming; the 
mirage was a great singer; the compensation, the 
homage of the world. I saw her holding to her 
heart in enchanted fancy, as the only thing worth 
while, the emptiest of all life's coveted cups — Fame. 

With these terrible, dark shadows hovering over 
her, — touching her, her eyes glowed, her heart beat 
wildly, as she played on and on — sang on and on, 



The Dead Are Alive 185 

ever dreaming of that magical ''some day" on which 
she would sing as only dream singers can! 

When night came, instead of lifting her fair, girl- 
ish face that the light within might consciously re- 
ceive the illuminating influence of the greater light, 
she crept into bed, forgetful of all things except the 
object of her dreaming and there was no one to re- 
mind her that ''by ambition fell the angels." 

Then slowly, as by absorption, the twin shadows 
crept within the white globe, staining it and dim- 
ming the light within, unconscious of which she hap- 
pily dreamed on. That "globe" effect was so pecu- 
liar that it is hard to describe so it can be under- 
stood, but I'll do my best. At first it was somewhat 
like an ordinary globe around any light, only it was 
nebulous; but as the bodies (the spiritual and physi- 
cal) began manifesting and growing, it took on 
rather an oblong shape, interpenetrating and extend- 
ing out beyond the bodies several feet, giving the sug- 
gestion of being the illumination from the little light 
that still remained within the bodies, the life spark, 
as it were. Colors came and went within it but they 
were very unlike these dark red-hued shadows that 
insinuated themselves into the whiteness about the 
head and spilled downward. Spirits of love and 
mercy focused their influence upon her, looking with 
sadness upon the shadows which the sport period of 
"self responsibility" had fastened upon her. Spirits 
of another kind came and smilingly whispered their 
approbation and encouragement, as her "Spanish 
Castles" grew to mighty proportions. 

At last school days were over and I saw a proud, 
self-centered woman at a health resort, laughing, 
dancing and singing, with a heart as light and care- 



1 86 How I Know That 

free as that of a bird. The world was good to her. 
She sang on, dreamed on, holding to her heart a pas- 
sionate prayer to the Gods of destiny. 

In the next scene she was sitting with a magazine 
on her lap, idly turning the pages, her thoughts far 
away, tangled in the meshes of illusion, delirious 
with its soft caresses. Great souls of the Invisible 
world stood beside her consulting as to her welfare^ 
looking sadly upon the shadow stained globe but not- 
ing with satisfaction the pure whiteness where the 
shadows were not. Other spirits nearby were listen- 
ing curiously, some joyously, some sadly, all realiz- 
ing the seriousness of the consultation except the one 
most vitally concerned. 

After some discussion and earnest deliberation one 
of the great souls said, with finality: 

"Take away the cause of the shadows — it is the 
only way." 

Then the great spirits went away sorrowfully, leav- 
ing her at least one more day of joy in her castle on 
the sands, before the tide would come and wash it 
away. 

Something of what had transpired sifted into her 
consciousness, as she became restless and depressed 
— "blue" without knowing why. Apprehensive fore- 
bodings, indefinable but insistent, obtruded them- 
selves upon her so forcibly that she laid the maga- 
zine down, arose, shook it all off and went singing 
to her room, where she arrayed herself in her most 
beautiful and becoming gown and went to a rehearsal 
of a society amateur theatrical to sing her "swan 
song," the encores of which she held to her heart 
as an advance consignment of the world's homage. 

After the dancing began, a theatrical man made 



The Dead Are Alive 187 

the world her very own by saying: 

''The world will hear of your singing some day — I 
feel that I have made a find." 

''Thank you," I heard her say, smiling serenely, re- 
gardless of the riotous triumph within. 

"Would you accept an engagement?" 

She looked at him in surprise and shrank away. 
Her dream had not progressed to that materialistic 
stage — the magical "Someday" was hid somewhere 
behind an alluring veil, far away in the dim future, 
with many days to dwell in dreamland before its com- 
ing. Accordingly she made answer almost indiffer- 
ently : 

"Not just yet — some day — perhaps." 

"Mistake — you are making a mistake — there is no 
practice like stage practice for a stage career," he 
hastily admonished. 

"Perhaps," I heard her say, as she gave him her 
permanent address before whirling away in a waltz, 
delirious with triumph. She danced until the hours 
were small and went home and sat for a long time 
dreaming the old dreams in a higher key and then 
slept as only the carefree can. 

How vividly I recalled every incident as I saw it 
re-enacted in this ethereal realm far away from the 
earth, but it was hard to recognize this passionate, 
fame-mad creature as myself. It had been so long 
since I had enjoyed such rapturous madness that it 
seemed to have been in some former incarnation in- 
stead of only a few short years before. 

All the details of this living picture I shall not in- 
flict upon the reader but in this review of my earth 
life even the most trivial incident was not omitted. 
Its faithfulness to detail was perfectly marvelous. 



1 88 How I Know That 

Nothing was hidden, nothing slurred over. It was 
all there. I was standing face to face with my earth 
life just as I had lived it, awaiting its condemnation 
or justification. In writing this, however, I am con- 
fining myself to the most important incidents or main 
thread, which is sufficient to show the interest and 
influence of the invisible world on our earth lives in- 
dividually, showing that while they respect the law 
of self-responsibility they interfere when it is used or 
abused to the detriment of the soul and operate or co- 
operate according to the law of soul progression. It 
is the exercise of this prerogative that sometimes 
changes the most joyous life into a living death from 
a mundane viewpoint, but fortunately the mundane 
is not the only viewpoint. If one cannot or will not 
grow strong spiritually and be happy at the same 
time, happiness is removed, that the soul may have 
its exercise on the dumb bells of misery and thereby 
grow strong, as spiritual strength is the only thing 
worth while that we can take with us when we cross 
over the Borderland. 

There was a marked interval between the showing 
of the happy, triumphant girl and the sick woman 
who lay on a bed of agony the next morning. She 
was ill, very ill, with a cold, or hoarseness that grew 
so alarmingly worse that a physician came and diag- 
nosed "Laryngitis." Without realizing the serious- 
ness of it she wondered how she had "caught such a 
cold," and felt it would be entirely dissipated within 
a few days. 

But when another day gave place to another and 
yet another she knew different; she realized that she 
was very ill — down in the "valley of the shadow." 



The Dead Are Alive '189 

Breathing became so difficult that every effort, arti- 
ficial and otherwise, was made to facilitate it. 

I could see the ^'shadow" body within struggling 
to free itself, to pass beyond its bondage which it 
seemed to realize would thereafter be a bondage in- 
deed — a veritable prison house of expiation. So des- 
perate became these struggles that I heard those near 
saying: ^^She is dying harder than any one I ever 
saw." 

Standing beside her through it all was the great 
spirit whom I had heard say, ^'Take away the cause 
of the shadows" and he touched her troubled soul, 
speaking to it, spirit to spirit, and it struggled no 
longer but settled down in the resignation that comes 
only of such communion. Those watching about her 
thought the transition had come but instead she 
opened her eyes calmly to physical perceptions, then 
slept easily, peacefully, while the great Spirit re- 
mained, comforting her troubled soul, which had 
not altogether relinquished its desire to escape from 
its imprisonment of flesh while the bars of resistance 
were down. 

Hours after she was lying wearily on the bed, 
awake, with the light gone out of her eyes and a great 
fear gripping her heart. When she would have taken 
comfort in the embraces of the old dream she found 
something cold and lifeless about it — an utter lack 
of responsiveness. It was then she turned to the doc- 
tor and whispered in a hoarse, croaking way: 

''My voice — will it come back?" 

"In time — yes," he made answer professionally, 
but she persisted : 

''I mean — to sing?" 



190 How I Know That 

She saw the sentence in his eyes before his lips pro- 
nounced it: 

^Tossibly." 

There was something — not the doctor — that told 
her the truth. She knew and turned her face to the 
wall, with her heart crying out, "Let me die — let me 
die," and later, in a half conscious way, with her 
face still to the wall, and her eyes closed, she was 
murmuring over and over again, "My soul is dead — 
my soul is dead." 

There came another pause in this strange moving 
picture — the space was blank — and then I saw her 
taking up the burden of life in all its emptiness. Life 
and singing had been to her synonymous and now 
there was only life — the casket with the jewel gone. 
She despised life — it had become a great, empty 
waste and meant nothing to her. In the bitterness of 
it all she cried out: "There is no God," and a cover- 
ing of materialism began weaving about the globe, 
which, still shadow-stained, enveloped her. The 
same Great Spirit looked on sorrowfully, respecting 
the law of self-responsibility and refrained from in- 
terference, yet was ever present with his protecting 
influence. 

Then I saw her parents one after the other pass 
into the spirit world and she was alone, fighting that 
bitter fight; hating life, yet living. She felt that she 
was alone in the world but she was not. The same 
great spirit was with her always and when life's pit- 
tails yawned across her pathway, his hand ever held 
hers, lifting her safely over, preserving the white 
spotlessness of the globe where it had not been 
touched with the shadows which were growing dim- 
mer and dimmer as the tragedies of life went on. 



The Dead Are Alive 191 

Then her heart was touched by something that had 
never come to it even in dreams, as ambition admitted 
no rivals. At last she knew the meaning of love, the 
splendor of which was so absorbing she felt it com- 
pensated for all that had been taken away — it was to 
her the 'Xand of Beginning Again," and life seemed 
to start all over with new promises, new ideals, such 
as ambition could never satisfy. 

The great spirit smiled as though well pleased as 
he looked upon her new dream, but he did not leave 
her. He remained, helping her soul to grow yet 
stronger and teaching many lessons as though there 
was an object in view. She was not conscious of his 
presence and he seemed well content to have it so, 
seeming to know that when the time came for him to 
be recognized the way would be paved for her re- 
sponsiveness. 

Then came that well-remembered train scene. I 
saw her sitting there in perplexity, listening, wonder- 
ing, while the great spirit was beside her. He had 
spoken and she had heard. Then he took her hand 
and she was conscious of his presence — it was Meon. 

Then came the death scene — a scene of that very 
night, bringing earth existence down to the very end 
of its pilgrimage. 

Naturally, regarding this as the end, I would have 
turned away but something compulsory in its 
strength held me. I looked about, half expecting to 
see something but to all appearances I was still alone 
— perhaps it was the shadow of earth's spiritual deaf- 
ness and blindness that made me unable to see. Then 
I looked back where I had seen the "pictures" and 
was standing face to face with myself as a spirit. I 
looked at it and it looked at me. When this airy, 



192 How I Know That 

fairy shadow form came and lay down at my feet in 
the attitude of restful relaxation, I was woefully per- 
turbed. A moment later, quivering before my eyes 
was that same little light, larger and more illuminat- 
ed, clothed with its wonderful globe radiance from 
which all the shadows were gone. It was glowing in 
unison with that same great living light essence in 
which it was incorporated, which interpenetrated 
everything. Then I looked down at the "shadow" 
body — the light was gone out of it! — Was it possible, 
— could it be dead? Being transparent, it seemed 
that I could see the deadness all through it and I 
shuddered, as I lifted my eyes again to the light that 
had deserted. It was still quivering within its won- 
derful illumination, then it slowly quivered upward 
and outward beyond the range of my vision. Again 
I looked upon the "dead" shadow body and shrank 
away from it, wondering, wondering — what could 
this mean? Did the "Shadow" body have to pass 
through the valley of death just as the physical did? 
In perplexity I turned away from it all and there 
stood Meon waiting. I would have told him what 
I had seen but he interrupted me evenly: 

"I know." 

"But why did you treat me like that, Meon?" I 
demanded. 

"To build an edifice on the ashes," he answered im- 
pressively. 

"And changed your mind?" almost sarcastically. 

"No," with a touch of reproach that made me say 
hastily : 

"Forgive me, Meon. What I saw made me live 
it all over again, the bitterness and the agony of it. 



The Dead Are Alive '193 

but it does not matter now and I thank you for your 
interest." 

'^Now that you understand better the relationship 
of the earth plane and the lives after it, is it your de- 
sire to remain here or to return?" 

''Return to earth," I replied unhesitatingly, re- 
joicing in this privilege which I felt would be mine, 
yet admitting that it was more than my worthiness 
justified. 

''That is well," he said, as joined by many great 
souls who rejoiced with us, we descended into the 
environment which I has designated "the Power 
House;" and stood waiting. 

"Come, tarry not, lest the gates of earth close 
against you," he admonished. "Are you ready?" I 
knew he meant the deterioration of the body and re- 
plied quickly: "I am," as I thought of what a catas- 
trophe it would be, if after all, I returned to find the 
brand of death already upon my physical abode. 

While I waited for Meon to lead the way — to go 
as we had come in — the floor seemed to give way and 
we went down with the sensation of falling through 
space. 



194 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
MUNDANE READJUSTMENT. 

I was trying to open my eyes, the lids of which had 
grown stiff and unyielding; trying to adjust myself 
in a case which seemed to have shrunken; trying to 
move hands that had grown heavy beyond my ability 
to lift. Meon and other spirits were hovering about 
me; I could feel the electrified essence, which had 
manifested its presence everywhere during my voy- 
aging, drawing itself away — letting me go, as it were. 
Then the burden of physical life was full upon me 
and what a misfit I was ! I felt as though I had been 
crammed into something several sizes too small for 
me. The heat within was awful while the exterior 
was cold and as heavy as lead. 

While laboring in this agony of readjustment the 
nurse raised up, rubbing her eyes, with an expression 
of guiltiness on her face for having overslept: 

"My how I have slept!" she was saying. "All 
night without waking; when have I done such a 
thing!" 

Then she looked at me as though she had just 
thought of me and asked, trying to prune her voice 
to professional cadence: 

"How are you this morning?" 

"Very well, thank you," I managed to mumble as 
my benumbed tongue obeyed reluctantly the demand 
made upon it. Had she been less sleepy I am sure 
she would have noted the unusual sound of my voice, 
which was quaky and scarcely audible. Instead she 
yawned violently, drew herself up, got out of bed and 



The Dead Are Alive 195 

went into the bathroom, leaving me thankful for the 
opportunity of further readjustment and examination 
of my exact physical status after existing for so long 
entirely independent of the body. 

While she made her toilet I took the inventory. 
The finger nails were blue as though bruised. As I 
was unable to raise myself I could not see my toe 
nails but fancied that they were in the same condi- 
tion and pushed them under the edge of the sheet and 
shut my hands so she could not see them and turned 
my face where it would be in shadow, all the time 
wondering how it looked. When I shut my hands I 
could not feel the nails on the palms and altogether 
there was such an unnatural feeling that I began 
investigating and of all disconcerting things it was 
the discovery that my body was insensible! How 
awesome was the thought of being a living soul in 
a dead body! I pinched myself, easily at first, then 
as vigorously as my limited strength would permit. 
This having no effect I took a hairpin, from where 
I had put it the night before when I loosened my 
hair, and with it pricked my arms, then my body 
through the thin gown but there was no more sensa- 
tion than if I had been pricking the bed! It was 
terrible and I heard the nurse coming and closed my 
eyes. She came very near and after looking at me 
critically for a moment, remarked: 

*^Not eating is certainly telling on you." 
Then it all came back, this sickening tragedy that 
seemed a thing of some other cycle of time, so much 
had happened since it had tortured me, and I had 
no time nor patience for it now, as the dead condi- 
tion of my body was consuming all of my considera- 
tion. It was then when the very thought of eating 



196 How I Know That 

was most hateful to me that breakfast was brought 
in, arranged in the daintiest and most tempting man- 
ner. I could have screamed at the sight of it, but 
restraining myself, I smiled and said pleasantly : 

*'I don't care for anything this morning, thank 
you." 

After the tray had been taken away and the nurse's 
arguments over with, I again settled down to the per- 
plexing problem confronting me. What ought I 
to do? After deliberating for a long time I called to 
the nurse: 

"Will you please bring my rubber flesh brush from 
the bath room?" 

When she returned with it, I said, by way of ex- 
planation : 

"Thank you — my flesh seems so dead." 

She looked at me disapprovingly and turned away 
without a word, as I began rubbing vigorously with- 
out producing the slightest effect. With the deter- 
mination of making myself feel, I summed up all 
the strength I could and attacked my arm just below 
the elbow with a strenuousness that I did not realize 
until I felt the rubber working easily as though on 
damp flesh and looked at the arm to discover that the 
skin was removed and the blood oozing out, dampen- 
ing the rubber. There was something sickening about 
it — so much so that my hands fell weak and helpless 
by my sides and the rubber rolled off on the floor. The 
nurse came over and picked it up and then brought 
a towel dipped in perfumed ice water and rubbed 
my face, which no doubt would have been refreshing 
if I could have felt it. I kept my arm in a position 
that hid the wound, shrinking from a questioning to 
which there was no satisfactory answer. 



The Dead Are Alive 197 

Then I realized that worrying was not helping me 
so what was the use of worrying? Plato tells us, 
^'Nothing in human affairs is worth any great 
anxiety," and his philosophy is still our greatest ex- 
position of idealism — in a speculative way. So I dis- 
missed, or rather crowded out thoughts of my body 
by reviewing the occurrences of the night before and 
tried to formulate in my mind a working basis of all 
things being one, being interpenetrated by that won- 
derful magnetic or electrical current, invisible, 
silent, powerful. Finally the illustration that most 
appealed to me was likening it to an electric power 
house to which we are as the lights in the different 
parts of the city, each with its own scope of illumina- 
tion, a power that can be turned on or off at will. 
Connected it illuminates our own pathway and those 
of others, if turned off we grope as blind creatures, 
crying out in the darkness. But we cannot get away 
from this silent invisible power; it is always there, to 
be used or abused as we elect. 

How wonderful it all was and yet I dared not even 
hint it to any one, despite the fact that we have 
reached that stage of progression where we recognize 
nothing as impossible, using every day commonplace 
things which were once high among recognized im- 
possibilities. Suppose for instance some one had told 
our forefathers, as they rubbed stones together to pro- 
duce a light, that the time would come when by touch- 
ing a tiny button a whole building or city would be 
lighted up instantly — that a man could sit in Wash- 
ington and press a button that would light up a sky- 
scraper in New York or anywhere else on this con- 
tinent and that in future, the same could be done 
anywhere in the world. When they were killing 



198 How I Know That 

their horses riding in mad haste to deliver messages 
suppose some one had Suggested that the time would 
be when a message could circle the globe before they 
could saddle the horse ; co"uld they then have believed 
that a person could sit in one city and converse with 
another miles away; could they foresee the wonders 
of wireless telegraphy — and that the same principle 
will in time be applied to telephony? Take moving 
pictures for instance — suppose some misguided 
wretch had suggested years ago that anyone could 
play in New York and be seen by the whole world; 
further, that the player dying would make no differ- 
ence — he or she could play on and could be seen 
after death just the same as before. Similarly in the 
case of a phonograph record — it is not altered in the 
least by the death of the singer — technically we hear 
the dead sing — see the dead play, but there is nothing 
supernatural about it. It is that great silent invisible 
force ELECTRICITY demonstrating- its power on 
earth at it does in the invisible spheres. We have 
made all these wonderful things common by every- 
day use and so we will go ever onward filling the won- 
ders of today with the commonplaces of tomorrow, 
and there are many wonders still unborn, greater 
even then we dream. 

Spirit communication is one of the wonders of to- 
day that tomorrow will claim for its commonplaces, 
when we will converse with the so-called dead as 
easily as we now do with the living; communicate 
with other realms as we now do other cities ; visit the 
invisible worlds, leaving our physical bodies at home 
just as we now do our other material possessions. 

Really spirit communication is nothing new — it 
is as old as the records of the world; all religion is 



The Dead Are Alive 199 

based on it; without it there would be no religious 
foundation, nothing on which to hang the theory of 
'^ife after death." While conscious continuity of 
life has been admitted down through the ages, evi- 
dence of it has always been shrouded in mystery and 
uncertainty — a glaring inconsistency — but the time 
is now upon us when it refuses to be denied any 
longer and insists on taking its place in the foremost 
ranks of demonstrated facts. It is a demonstrated 
fact, admitted by the greatest scientists and thinkers 
of the world, who see the "handwriting on the wall" 
that all who will may read and understand. 

The history of spirit communion is rather diversi- 
fied, as each age had treated it in its own way whether 
right or wrong. In Biblical times those who com- 
muned with spirits were sacred, the chosen of God; 
in later days they were burned at the stake as witches, 
heretics and worse ; still later they were incarcerated 
within asylums for the insane; but now it has met us 
at Philippi — we stand face to face with it, with no 
choice but acceptance; and still later, in the future, 
it will revolutionize the world. There will be peace, 
one nation, one religion and we will wonder how it 
could ever have been otherwise. However, there is 
a price, a mighty toll, to be paid before this ideal 
condition prevails. 

How I digress ! 

I could not chain my thoughts to earth that day; 
they would soar away and I seemed to live in that far 
away world, away from the earth and all of its sor- 
didness, but when the lunch hour came it dragged 
me down again to that everlasting eating tragedy — 
the war of the seen and unseen over a soul that be- 
longed to neither and yet to both — one exacting a 



200 How I Know That 

fast, the other a feast. The nurse had reached the 
limit of her patience and a few minutes later I heard 
her phoning the doctor, admitting her inability to 
'^cope with such contrariness." 

About the middle of the afternoon the doctor came 
and after exhausting his power of persuasion, de- 
livered the following ultimatum : 

^'You will either eat or be sent where the opera- 
tion will be performed under compulsory condi- 
tions." 

I flinched under such a lash but made no appeal. 
After he had gone, however, I cried pleadingly to 
the forces that held me, cried out into the invisible 
void, "be merciful," but no answering voice came 
back and I knew that until I was released the fast 
would prevail regardless of consequences. But was 
there such a place where people could be made to eat 
whether they wanted to or not? Was he trying to 
frighten me into compliance? 

I asked myself lots of questions and was very un- 
happy for a while and then utterly weary of the 
tragedy of it all — of watching preparations go for- 
ward in accordance with the doctor's ultimatum, of 
the bitterness of it all, I turned my face to the wall. 
Tears that hurt as they moistened the dry benumbed 
lids came sparingly as though the parched lids ab- 
sorbed them before they could escape. Then a peace 
came upon me — I did not care — nothing mattered. 
No matter how the tide ebbed I would just drift with 
it in utter disregard. I would make no appeal where 
either world was concerned, they could do with me 
as they liked. Suddenly I realized that I was ex- 
ceedingly hungry and thirsty and there was a sting- 
ing sensation in the throat. It needed no one to tell 



The Dead Are Alive 201 

me that I had been released. I knew it before I 
heard the voice saying: 

^'Eat— drink." 

Now that the fasting pressure was lifted a strange 
regret, almost apprehensive, came upon me and I 
was wondering if the spiritual privileges had been 
entirely withdrawn and I had been unreservedly 
given back to the physical. Though hungry and 
thirsty I remained for some time as I was, loath to 
dissipate a condition that had played its part in the 
transitional drama of the night before, the memory 
of which seemed even more beautiful than the reali- 
ty. I had wanted to come back to earth but now was 
T altogether satisfied that I had done so? 

A special dinner was prepared that evening and 
served with as much ceremony as though in reality it 
celebrated my return from the "Port of Missing 
Men," all of which I appreciated more than I dared 
express, feigning an indifference the absence of 
frankness enforced. However, I ate very sparingly, 
as someway, I was not really hungry when the time 
came but it satisfied those interested and that was 
much. 

At last the long day with its mundane and super- 
mundane exactions was over and I was alone in the 
night watches again, wondering if I had been given 
back unreservedly to the mundane and was almost 
afraid to call into the silence lest I should find it 
void, a confirmation more terrible than suspense. As 
I waited in this awful uncertainty, I perceived Meon 
beside me, felt the great electrified current envelop 
me, and before I fully realized what was transpiring, 
I was again riding on the vibratory waves of space. 



202 How I Know That 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

MUNDANE AND SUPERMUNDANE RE- 
LATIONSHIP. 

"That which was profitable to the soul of man the Father 
revealed to the ancients; that which is profitable to the soul of 
man today revealeth He this day" 

Again I looked down upon my vacated body but 
it was not nearly so interesting as it had been the 
night before, and after the most casual observation I 
vibrated leisurely about within the environment of 
the earth, wondering what was forthcoming. 

For some time I waited for Meon to speak but as 
lie did not, I ventured : 

^'Where are we going, Meon?" 

^'Would you care to observe the earth in its actual 
relationship with the invisible?" 

^'Nothing would please me more," I assured him, 
feeling almost enthusiastic at the prospect. 

''Come," he called and we vibrated lower upon the 
face of the earth where the vibrations became more 
pronounced, as we harmonized with its magnetism. 

I floated easily about over the city, taking what 
might be termed a physical inventory. I wanted to 
see if things looked the same viewed from the other 
side of life. They did. Moonlight flooded the city 
with its softness and I looked into the faces of the 
stars, feeling the witchery of the night's perfection 
much as I had always done; the automobiles, con- 
veyances, pedestrians, were hurrying along just as 
usual. The buildings and everything looked just 
the same. 



The Dead Are Alive 203 

The ''town clock" was nearing the midnight hour. 
After looking into its familiar face a few seconds, I 
turned away and would have walked upon the side- 
walk that I might go into the buildings through their 
doors but Meon entered easily through the wall, and 
with just a little misgiving I followed and learned 
that material constructions or obstructions formed 
no bar to my sight or passing. I was surprised that 
I had not thought of that before as it seemed I must 
have known it, as otherwise how could I have gone 
out and come in the night before? 

As the inhabitants lay wrapped in the oblivion of 
sleep we passed into their homes, even unto the most 
sacred firesides and stood aghast as the doors of skele- 
ton closets creaked on their rusty hinges and strange 
ghosts walked out in full view, concealing nothing; 
nothing could be concealed as between souls there 
can be no deceptions. Those of us who spend our 
energies making deception and concealment fine arts 
hnd in the end how worse than useless has been the 
expenditure of our energies. How strange it all 
seemed as we violated home after home, passing 
through the ''halls of pleasure," and the "isles of 
pain," until I began to feel ashamed of the unfair 
advantage I was taking of unsuspecting and defense- 
less humanity and would have returned but Meon 
spurred me to renewed activity by saying solemnly: 

"One must first procure knowledge before giving 
it — to serve humanity one must know humanity." 

And thus using my purpose to excuse my act, I 
went on and on, suspended above or standing by the 
bedside of the sleeping, conversing with the soul that 
never sleeps. In fact, in some instances souls were 
entirely absent from the bodies as they slept, away 



204 How I Know That 

somewhere. When I first observed that sleep is 
nothing more nor less than the soul leaving the body 
lor the higher pleasures and benefits of the spirit 
world I was shocked but soon became accustomed to 
seeing disembodied spirits and spirits of the sleeping 
mingling together in the friendliest and most natural 
manner. 

The '^household" or guardian spirits in some 
homes objected to our entry and we passed on, re- 
specting the objection without question, as some 
spirits love the human beings over whom they keep 
watch so devotedly that they exclude from them all 
other spirit influence or interference. Such protec- 
tion other spirits respect as long as the human beings 
thus guarded make no objections, and as most per- 
sons are unconscious of invisible solicitude they 
neither appreciate it nor object to it. In some in- 
stances it is all right but in others it would be better 
to break the influence. However, this breaking up 
or changing ones invisible household is a very serious 
matter and should be undertaken only with discrim- 
inating intellectuality and spirituality, or even more 
undesirable entities may enter into the vacancy cre- 
ated by the departure of those who must retire at the 
command of the one concerned. While the law of 
^'like attracts like," is excellent, we must not lose 
sight of the fact that "a chain is no stronger than its 
weakest link" and that we are no stronger than our 
weakest propensity. 

"And good may ever conquer ill 
* Health walk where pain has trod 

^As a man thinketh so he is' 

Arise and think with God." 



The Dead Are Alive 205 

Varied were the emotions born within me as I 
viewed uncovered souls and knew them as they knew 
themselves in all their sin-laden weariness and sor- 
row-laden memories. Even the whitest and purest 
souls suffer because of fancied sins even more than 
real criminals suffer for real crimes. Even little 
children sorrow deeply, as I saw little pillows damp 
with childish tears that aching hearts had pumped to 
the surface — a soul as old as time struggling with a 
new opportunity. Selfishness enthroned itself in many 
hearts while the willing subjects held unto themselves 
the joy of self-love which poisons while it pleases. 
There were blackened souls within handsome and 
beautiful bodies of men and women; souls too pure 
and white for earth's tragedies incorporated within 
weak, deformed and ugly bodies; then there were 
beautiful souls within beautiful bodies ; hideous souls 
within hideous bodies, and so it went on and on, the 
invisible influence ever in evidence. Some otherwise 
beautiful souls were held in unconscious bondage by 
invisible earth-magnetized beings whose influence 
was worse than degrading, even criminal. It is such 
influence that sometimes make criminals after com- 
mitting a most revolting crime defend their actions 
by claiming that ''God" or some scion among the in- 
fluential dead told them to do it. They feel perfectly 
justified in what they have done regardless of con- 
sequences to themselves or any one else. Such earth- 
magnetized spirits live, in a way, the physical life, at 
the expense of human beings, and in some way gather 
unto themselves strength beyond the average spirit, 
so much so that they can imitate the voice or appear- 
ance of any person they find it expedient to represent. 
They find some person. of their own instincts and 



2o6 How I Know That 

dominate him and when he is sufficiently sensitive for 
the purpose for which he has been trained, they ap- 
pear to him, or speak assuming the appearance or 
voice of the person most effective in the accomplish- 
ment of their design. They assist in the accomplish- 
ment of crime, as well as in the apprehension of the 
criminal, rejoicing in the chain of misery they have 
the power to create as well as to satisfy their craving 
to identify themselves with physical action. St. Paul 
warns us : 

^'Beloved, believe not every spirit but try the 
spirits whether they are of God." 

Reason was given us to use, therefore, we should 
put the search light of reason on everything, spiritual 
as well as material. No matter what comes from the 
invisible world submit it to the highest pressure of 
reason before becoming identified with it or acting 
in accordance with it. Spirits are only disembodied 
human beings, who take human frailties and perver- 
sities into the spirit world with them, some having 
a very hard time ridding themselves of them. We 
retain our identity absolutely as we would not be 
ourselves if by simply coming out of our physical 
bodies we changed immediately into a soul much 
better or infinitely worse. What we are in this world 
is what we will be when we "wake up and find our- 
selves dead" and so we shall remain until, by our 
own spiritual strength, we evolve into the higher con- 
ditions of the after life. However, it is possible for 
us to so live while in the earth life that we may pass 
unconsciously through all eliminating conditions, 
and wake in what one might term the Heaven World, 
a condition of extreme spiritual happiness. Very few 
go by way of this direct route. 



The Dead Are Alive 207 

I cannot too strongly impress it upon the reader 
that there are no lost souls. The unfortunate crea- 
tures who go into the spirit world after abusing, 
through their own weakness, the privilege of earth 
life, fall out of the evolutionary vibrations for a time 
and become creatures of retrogression instead of pro- 
gression but sooner or later that ever onward irresist- 
ible current takes them within itself and unifies them 
with the great scheme of things. We may give this 
class our pity and our prayers but we must shut them 
out of communion with us until we have attained 
soul strength sufficient to uplift them instead of be- 
ing degraded by them. In fact, they are very good 
things to leave alone entirely until we are quite ^ure 
of ourselves. We must learn to know that nothing 
can make us evil or commit criminal acts against our 
wills — nothing can really hurt us but ourselves. 
There is a "still small voice" within which we call 
^'conscience" and which never fails. When in doubt 
we should just listen to it. Listening, we cannot act 
wrong and feel happy in so doing. 

So I floated on and on over the sleeping city, listen- 
ing and learning, earth life an open book before me. 
I floated through the iron bars into the jail and 
looked down with pity noting that there were souls 
not nearly so shadow stained as many who were free. 
Poor dominated creatures, miserable and pliant in 
their unconscious servitude, I wanted to tell them 
how easy it would be to shake ofif such influence and 
be free but not one heard me, although I persisted 
in calling. One young man, a sailor, turned quickly 
and listened when I called but that was all. Al- 
though the hour was late he was sitting, staring out 
of the window; he turned his face, listened a mo- 



2o8 How I Know That 

ment then sighed and stared on. He was thinking 
of his home and loved ones across the sea, and I could 
see the little home and all of its details, his mind 
imaged it so perfectly. 

Then I went down on the wharves, into the ships 
and every ship had its individual invisible household, 
that seemed to belong to it as much as the furniture 
or even the material with which it was built. These 
spirits seemed to be much happier in every way than 
those who confine themselves upon the land. Instead 
of making objections to my coming among them they 
welcomed me more cordially than any other class 
that I had intruded my presence upon. It was really 
like a social diversion. They talked freely, explain- 
ing many things of interest. They accompanied me 
out upon the wharves but in no instance did they 
enter a ship other than their own. 

When I was back upon the land rather a pitiable 
condition manifested itself to me. There were souls 
who could not realize that they were dead and imag- 
ined themselves still in the earth life. One was ex- 
cessively unhappy because of being ignored by 
friends and loved ones. He could see and hear them 
but they could not hear him speak nor see him. Not 
knowing that he was dead he could not understand 
why. Some were groping about, ever feeling, as 
though they could not see, calling in the most pitiful, 
pleading way, ^ Where are you? — where are you?" 
as though searching for some one they could not find, 
with the name dearest to them ever on their lips. I 
realized what a dreadful thing it was to live in the 
spirit world recognizing only the physical, ignoring 
the soul, shutting it out from the growth and develop- 
ment which is the purpose of the earth existence and 



The Dead Are Alive 209 

the reason it is given to us. I shuddered and turned 
away from this condition, to one, if anything, more 
uncanny; there were souls sleeping — peacefully 
enough — but just sleeping in the darkness — waiting 
— waiting for what? A call to awaken them, or had 
they just dropped out to peacefully await another 
cycle of time? Those who slept were certainly not 
unhappy, but just sleeping ^'even as you and I." 

I had grown weary of seeing things I did not care 
to see and turned my eyes away, shutting out all 
sights, wondering if there was nothing beautiful in 
the relationship of the seen and unseen. So far my 
observations had been rather disappointing, and I 
felt inclined to go back into my body if what I had 
seen was all there was to our invisible relationship. 
When I would have made this suggestion to Meon 
I observed that everything was changed, even the vi- 
brations were different. I could feel the interpene- 
tration of that great electrified current, see the light 
of it spreading out over everything. Great souls were 
coming down through the darkness illuminating as 
they came down the electrified pathway between the 
earth and the higher planes. While these beings do 
not directly interfere with the law of ^'self-responsi- 
bility," which requires each soul to choose for itself 
between right and wrong, their influence has much 
to do with the choosing, as well as in the rectifying 
when the wrong choice has been made, each soul pay- 
ing the price its wrong choice involves. 

Almost every one is, at times, consciously or uncon- 
sciously en rapport with these highly evolved souls, 
as they harmonize with the mundane strata and leave 
permanent creations in the form of art, literature, 
music, love — things that make life worth while to 



210 How I Know That 

us. There is a note within every human being in 
tune with the infinite and we must sometimes feel it 
when the chord is struck. Sometimes we are con- 
scious of it when we stand in the presence of a mas- 
terpiece of nature or of man. At such times a mem- 
ory, a chord or strain of music touches within and 
stabs us, as it were, with something too deep and ex- 
quisite to analyze, leaving a sense of something high- 
er — illusive though it may be — something, some- 
where — the soul-touch of higher things. 

There is another class of spirits that seem to be- 
long, in rather a permanent way, to the invisible 
world about us. They are not highly evolved and 
know practically nothing about the world beyond 
this but they seem to be helpers and friends to hu- 
manity, doing all they can to make the earth life 
happier. They are very happy and companionable 
themselves, laughing and playing like children 
amongst us all the time. Nor are they above playing 
harmless pranks and jokes on us, which give them 
much amusement and do not harm us. They are more 
attracted and helpful to some persons than others, as 
some seem to attract while others repel them. Their 
position does not seem to be an important one but 
they keep life from being too burdensomely serious 
by adding to it a touch of humor and playfulness. 
They go down under the earth which is very easy of 
access to them and to a certain extent in the air, con- 
fining themselves, however, very closely within the 
area of human habitation. They have names which 
are very unlike the earth variety but rather pretty. 
While I have never attended a spiritualistic seance 
of any kind I fancy these spirits would lend them- 
selves quite unreservedly to such occasions and do all 



The Dead Are Alive 21 1 

they could to promote communication between the 
two worlds but if they presided over it entirely there 
would be little to learn further than the possibility of 
such communication. The mere fact that such com- 
munication is possible, however, is much to the in- 
vestigator. 

Then came a phase so tender and beautiful that I 
looked on almost reverently. It was the tender solici- 
tude of departed loved ones. 

There was the good, pure spirit mother watching 
lovingly over her children, especially the little ones 
whom her transition had left at the mercy of the 
world. I saw her bending with hopeful persuasion 
over the wayward son, pleading with him who heed- 
ed her not. There was the loving, protecting father 
helping and comforting the child that needed him 
most, teaching the one most vulnerable to his influ- 
ence; innocent little children were kissing the lips of 
their sleeping parents, murmuring "Mama — Papa;" 
there was the loving husband or wife, trying to light- 
en burdens that weighed heavily on beloved should- 
ers and impress his or her presence on the object of 
solicitude. Friends came to friends; loved ones to 
loved ones. Eyes looked tenderly into eyes that saw 
them not; voices went lovingly into ears that heard 
them not; lips pressed lips that felt them not. 

"Eyes watch us that we cannot see 

Lips warn us that we may not kiss 

They wait for us and starrily 

Lean towards us from Heaven's lattices." 

The beauty of all this was that these souls were not 
bound by the magnetism of the earth but by the ties 
of love, which transition glorified, making it a pure, 



212 How I Know That 

holy offering, compared to which love in the earth 
life is only a shadow. They come and go at will. 
Yet, I strongly advise those investigating this subject 
or any one who passes into a condition of sensitiveness 
sufficient to communicate with the invisible, not to 
call too often to the loved ones on the other side, as 
they have their lives there with its attending duties 
of progression, which demand much of them. The 
refining of the soul is a delicate process which inter- 
ference complicates. If they care to come of their 
own volition it is well; let them understand that 
you are always glad to have them come when they 
will. I looked upon some beautiful souls that were 
held almost earth-bound by the continuous and sel- 
fish calling of loved ones still in the earth life who 
could not even recognize them when they came and 
were regardless of the sacrifices they were causing. 
When it is possible for our loved ones to come they 
will do so without our exacting it. On the other 
hand such exactions without the possibility of com- 
pliance leave us open to spirits of deception who 
would gladly embrace the opportunity of represent- 
ing themselves to be the desired one. As we are prone 
to believe without question what our loved ones tell 
us, we thereby risk putting ourselves in the power of 
unscrupulous spirits. Those who have learned dis- 
crimination run no such risks ; it is the beginner who 
should be careful. 

Another interesting phase of this wheels-within- 
wheels, mundane-supermundane conglomeration was 
that of persons who had passed out of life with un- 
finished work to which they had devoted their lives 
and talents. They were seeking earnestly for "sen- 
sitives" vulnerable to their influence. When such a 



The Dead Are Alive 213 

'^receiving station" is found they help and direct 
without dominating the continuance of their achieve- 
ments and labors, to which is added the knowledge 
that the evolution to a higher existence supplies — 
one of the greatest forces in earth's progress. Many 
of our great men are still living amongst us in this 
way. Instead of going on the journey of individual 
progression they are sacrificing themselves on the al- 
tar of progression of humanity in general, which in 
the end will be a sacrifice more than well made. 

As I went on taking soul inventories over the city 
I came near unto my fiance but loyalty placed her 
white hands over my soul's eyes and I passed on with- 
out the slightest desire of "seeing unseen" any skele- 
tons that might darken his closet — if there were any 
they were, to me, too sacred to violate. This, how- 
ever, did not apply to his friends, so I vibrated out 
to the home of one of his business associates and float- 
ed through the walls into his presence. He was sur- 
rounded by highly evolved beings, who while they 
loved him very much made not the slightest objec- 
tion to my coming as near to him as I desired. He 
recognized my presence immediately as that of a 
spirit, an unseen thing, without recognizing who it 
was. I was shocked to see suspended over his head 
a scroll so nearly unwound that it was hanging by the 
merest thread, vibrating, quivering, threatening to 
"let go'' as I looked. It needed no one to tell me 
that this soul was preparing to "raise anchor" for 
other seas. 

When I would have told him, would have warned 
him of his coming transition, I perceived that he 
knew it and was arranging his business affairs ac- 
cordingly. As I looked upon his soul splendor I 



214 How I Know That 

realized how erroneous is the teaching against the 
spiritual greatness of a rich man. He was rich un- 
questionably in material possessions but richer still 
in soul achievement and spiritual strength. In the 
consciousness of his impending transition I remained 
for some time studying this phase of life's drama and 
then left the room wrapped in that awed reverence 
we feel in the presence of approaching "death." 

The next day I told my fiance of this coming tran- 
sition but he chided me for "foolish fancies" but I 
knew different — a difference which a few weeks 
verified. 

When I was again suspended over the city I bathed 
listlessly in the moonlight, listening to the moaning 
of the sea, with all desire for further delving into the 
soul problem gone. It was all such a tangled web, so 
many conflicting influences and contradictory mani- 
festations that I felt it was a problem stupendous be- 
yond my ability to solve — a veritable puzzle. Really 
there was no happiness. There was no soul however 
shadowed by sin that sorrow did not outweigh the 
sin, even in those who "combine one virtue with a 
thousand crimes." In the midst of my conjectures I 
noted a strange shadow-like darkness, creeping upon 
the earth, enveloping it and such a wave of tragedy 
and unhappiness swept over me that I was almost 
afraid. I turned with the thought of running back 
into my body but the darkness was terrible and I 
heard a voice saying: "Earth is a giant Gethsemane," 
and so it seemed, as I waited, wondering. 

Then I felt the great electrified current and my 
distress vanished instantly. I could see it spreading 
out, far out over the face of the earth dispelling the 
darkness, consuming the sorrow. Everything was 



The Dead Are Alive 2 1 5 

transformed, transfigured, and looking up I saw the 
'Tower House" as though it were very near and 
great was the illumination between. As I looked 
suddenly I beheld a face that we all know and heard 
voices crying out: 

^'Behold the second coming of Christ." 

Slowly this vision faded and I was looking down 
on the uncovered souls of the city just as though there 
had been no insert of agonizing darkness followed by 
the light and its wonderful promise. So much had 
been crowded into such a limited period of time that 
there was a sense of confusion and uncertainty in the 
midst of which I appealed to Meon: 

^'Meon, I want to go back — I am so tired that 
fancy is taking liberties with me." 

''Very well, but to accuse Fancy is not to convict 
it." 

"But is Christ coming to earth again?" 

"Certainly," he replied impressively. "The rein- 
carnation of this great teacher by a perfectly natural 
and recognized law is soon to be fulfilled." 

Further questioning availed little and when I 
would have escaped into my body as into a refuge I 
observed beside it a spirit woman crouching furtive- 
ly, her hands grasping frantically trying to touch it, 
her eyes gleaming, her face passionate with eager- 
ness, showing how vitally intent she was upon her 
purpose whatever it was. I turned to Meon for ex- 
planation: 

"What is she doing?" I asked mystified. 

"Trying to appropriate your body during your 
absence," he replied evenly, filling me with appre- 
hension, which he allayed by adding: "But she wont 



2i6 How I Know That 

— she cannot even touch it. It is protected against 
invasions of all kinds." 

Looking up she saw us and with a screeching, 
moaning cry she slunk away in the darkness. The 
echoes of her piteous moans wafted back, making 
even the ^^flesh" of my soul "creep." I gazed after 
her intently even after I could no longer see nor hear 
her, conjecturing. Then suddenly I was aghast at 
the revelation, feeling that I had solved the mystery 
of '4ost identity," which has so baffled our physicians 
and scientists. 

Then I slipped into my body and readjusted myself 
much more easily than I had the night before. 

All souls leave their bodies at times consciously or 
unconsciously, always during sleep, which is only 
a matter of the soul (or spirit) leaving the body and 
going out into the spirit world. When it returns we 
"wake up." Why do we not bring back the con- 
sciousness of such experiences? Really I do not know. 
What I do know is that souls are out of their bodies 
during sleep for I saw this to be a fact. Some were 
near their bodies, others were nowhere to be seen, 
evidently on journeys into higher realms. However, 
during this time the bodies are protected against pir- 
acy of the earth magnetized beings, who would be 
glad to appropriate any body in order to function in 
the earth life. Because of this splendid system of 
protection such cases are fortunately exceedingly 
rare. It is a very interesting subject none the less. I 
recall reading recently of a case where even the eyes 
and the stature had changed. The fact is, it is an 
entirely different soul that inhabits the body. Possi- 
bly the former incumbent deserted its earth abode for 
joys of other realms leaving it at the mercy of the 



The Dead Are Alive 217 

merciless. Possibly some disembodied spirit gained 
strength superior to the embodied and simply ejected 
it. Too, I believe this change has been made by 
spirits so conversant with the affairs of the person 
in question that no one ever suspected it. There are 
cases where persons have changed in character so 
suddenly and entirely that no accepted theory could 
reasonably explain them. There are, I believe, in- 
stances where the rightful owner has, after a time, 
regained possession of its earth abode and remem- 
bers nothing of the transaction, or so claims. The 
chances are that he does not. On the other hand 
Public Opinion (the tyrant that makes or mars the 
average life) would curtail frankness in the matter. 
This also could be applied to insanity. 

This, however, was not the only time I saw that 
woman and heard her wailings. At times while with- 
in my body I felt her disturbing presence, which was 
always heralded by an unaccountable attack of what 
we call the ''blues." Then I strengthened myself 
against her influence, mentally affirming that she 
could not affect me in any way, that I was superior 
to such influence. After that when she came there 
was only the consciousness of her sinladen and sor- 
rowing presence. I pitied her and spoke to her kind- 
ly, asking her to leave me, which she always did im- 
mediately but as she went the moaning cries that 
floated back pierced my heart with a pity that was 
painful. 

Later she came and seemed more comforted. Her 
cries became less and less agonizing, and her presence 
less disturbing. 

At last she came — it was a soft, breeze-laden sum- 
mer's night as I lay in convalescense. I perceived her 



21 8 How I Know That 

presence and knew she stood beside the bed but as she 
had never spoken, I did not even listen. Then she 
came very near — nearer than she had ever come be- 
fore and whispered pleadingly: 

"Let me touch your hand, please/* 

I lifted my hand that she might take it if she so de- 
sired and as her icy touch came upon it she bent over 
me and said with passionate earnestness : 

"Oh, beautiful soul, through you I have seen the 
truth and the light and I go toward them blessing 
you." 

With all my weaving of dreams, all the promises 
that passing behind the veil had given, I had never 
considered the possibility of helping a soul that had 
passed beyond the mundane, while I was still in the 
mundane life, and yet, why not? While still marvel- 
ing at the revelation she passed out of my presence 
and has never since returned. 



The Dead Are Alive 219 

CHAPTER XXV. 
THE LINK OF INFINITUDE. 

The next day was dreary, melancholy and the 
mood was contagious, especially when as the after- 
noon wore on, rain drizzled with a plaintive, 
pattering sound on the metal roof, distant thunder 
rolled and a rough sea was roaring and moaning as 
the waves dashed on the rocks beyond the seawall. 
A fitting background for depression. Then the rain 
poured down with the steadiness that promises to last 
several hours and I listened to the downpour with a 
vague sense of unhappiness. Tears came and went 
spasmodically as that "what is the use?" feeling 
pressed upon me. The conviction that I was going 
to die was a thing not to be shaken off; I argued that 
one could not live who was already dead. I realized 
that while out of my body I lived with the so-called 
dead — that my body was only a place where I "kept 
up appearances" of being alive during the day but 
when night came I deserted it for the real life — the 
life in the spirit world. I felt that all my hopes and 
dreams had been foolish — out of all reason — and that 
there was nothing for me to do but just die and be 
done with it— just go out and never return. 

I knew it was impossible for this condition to last 
much longer. It seemed that I was more illy adjust- 
ed than usual, my body was a thing painfully apart 
from me. I could consciously recognize myself as 
two separate entities. The outer or physical was cold 
with the heaviness of clay, while the soul or inner 



220 How I Know That 

was light and strong, resenting the prison walls in 
which it was confined. 

Then I perceived Meon beside me and com- 
plained : 

"When this sensitiveness came upon me I was in 
perfect health and strength, why have I been other- 
wise since? 

"A condition necessary for what had transpired 
and is still to transpire." 

"Tell me, please, am I to remain on earth or am 
I going to die? This has become unbearable." 

"It will not be required much longer," he replied, 
looking at me reproachfully, but I persisted : 

"But you have not answered my question." 

"It will answer itself soon enough." 

This disturbing unrest was still upon me when my 
Beloved came in the evening and I welcomed the 
diversion he offered. Opening a book he said : 

"I have brought the Rubayat of Omar Khayyam 
to read to you — would you like it?" 

"Surely yes — it will be like old times," I assured 
him as I thought almost regretfully of the mysterious 
force that had come into my life touching its rifting 
fingers to the perfect lute of our comradeship. 

Every word of the quaint Bacchanalian philosophy 
was like a return of an old friend who had been long 
absent and as he read ever and anon he would lift 
his eyes to mine in appreciation of my undivided at- 
tention and the congeniality of our literary tastes. 

When he came to this : 

I sent my soul through the Invisible 

Some letter of that after life to spell 

And by and by my soul returned to me 

And answered, "I myself am Heaven and Hell." 



The Dead Are Alive 221 

How forcibly the truth of it struck me! All of 
life's philosophy summed up in one little sentence! 
No matter what we say, what we do, or where we 
go, there are means of escaping everything but just 
ourselves, and from ourselves there is no escape in 
this life nor the life to come, even unto the end of 
the journey, therefore, it is well to make of ourselves, 
our most desirable companions, for it is this com- 
panionship that will outlast all things else, even 
throughout all eternity. 

He was quick to note my abstraction and said with 
apologetic solicitude : 

"I have wearied you reading so long but it seemed 
so good to have you listen again." 

*^I am not tired. It is such a pleasure — ." I has- 
tened to assure him, but he closed the book saying: 

'*We will take no chances — there will be days and 
days we can read together when you are well." 

^^You are considerate to a fault," I said, half laugh- 
ing, trying to disguise my regret that the reading was 
over. 

After he had gone for some time the magnetism of 
his presence lingered, preventing an immediate re- 
turn to the despondency that the day had fastened 
upon me, but it was not long before the duet of the 
rain and sea made me restless again and I called into 
the silence. No answering voice came. No loneli- 
ness that afflicts mortals is greater than that caused 
by the withdrawal of the companionship of the spirit 
world, after one has experienced the joys of it. I 
turned again to the dismal earth sounds and com- 
plained that sleep, "nature's soft nurse," refused to 
come while I was still within the domain of her com- 
forting influence, feeling that by another night I 



222 How I Know That 

would be entirely and forever removed from its ne- 
cessity. As though accepting the challenge she fold- 
ed me tenderly to her bosom, lifting me above the 
melancholia that had so dominated my waking hours. 

I was awakened by thousands of spirit voices 
blending in a monotonous chant, the same thing over 
and over again. With one voice they chanted one 
sentence and that sentence was : "Thy will be done, 
O God, not mine." Some of the voices were sweet 
and low; some high and loud ; some near; some came 
from afar, yet there was no discord but perfect mo- 
notonous harmony, if one can conceive of a thing so 
rare. After listening to it for some time wondering 
why they made no variation in voice or word, I tried 
to shut it out and go back to sleep but I reckoned 
without the chanters, who, with renewed energies put 
sleep in the category of impossibilities. 

After resenting it awhile I tried to harmonize my 
soul with the sentiment, and to join in the spirit of 
it but some way my "old self" seemed to have come 
back and resentment kindled anew. I argued that my 
will is mine to use, not to make it subjective to that of 
another, even though it were God's and that I would 
use it just as I elected. Thus my resentment grew in 
pace with the ever increasing power and persistence 
of the monotonous chanting, which finally became so 
nerve-racking that I felt like running out into the 
street, into the rain — anywhere to escape it — as it 
went on and on and on, no faster no slower, just dead 
level monotony. 

When it seemed I could endure it no longer, I 
called Meon but as no response came I called for just 
any one who would answer with the determination 
of coming to some understanding, or even compro- 



The Dead Are Alive 223 

mise if necessary — anything if they would only stop 
demanding that which was expected of me. Natur- 
ally this attempted communication threw me more 
intimately into their vibration, which almost over- 
powered me with their sentiment that I should join 
in the chant not only in words but in sentiment, but 
I did not succumb. However, I could feel my re- 
sentment wearing itself out, my arguments seemed 
weak and unsustained. I was tired — utterly weary — 
and I wanted them to just please hush, if only for a 
moment. The clock struck two and I remember 
wishing it was twelve and in fancy I almost felt the 
thrill of counting twelve big, long strokes as they 
hammered into the monotony. Instead the two little 
strokes had come and gone and my soul was pleading 
'^please hush" into the very silence, which the voices 
so violated. 

Then in a vague dream-like way, I caught the 
faintest glimpse of the mantle of "Self-Responsibil- 
ity" just as I had seen it come fluttering down upon 
me in the panorama of my earth lift. Suddenly I 
was stabbed, as it were, with the realization that ac- 
cepting this was not compulsory but was, in reality^ 
the greatest of all privileges being offered for my ac- 
ceptance or rejection — the privilege of thinking with 
God. I realized that by merging my will in the Uni- 
versal Will its power would be my power and the 
prerogative would be mine of thinking and acting in 
conscious oneness with the All-Intelligence, that in- 
stead of making my will subjective such a unification 
would give it a dominance that it could not otherwise 
attain. 

I was appalled at my stupidity in resisting this 
privilege and wondered how I could have been so 



224 How I Know That 

blind. Yes, it was the law of Self-Responsibility in 
operation. My choice had been left absolutely un- 
influenced. Even now I wondered what would have 
been the result had I rejected it. Just to think that 
while clothed in the authority of Self-Responsibility, 
wrapped in my garment of flesh within the magne- 
tism of earth, I had persistently resisted that which 
I most ardently sought when beyond earth's confines 
— conscious oneness with all power. How unworthy 
I felt as I listened to the offering of the privilege of 
privileges, feeling that no matter to what extent a 
soul may progress, as long as it remains on earth it 
is assailed by diverse influences. Finally I shook -it 
all off and took refuge in the joy that I had not en- 
tirely succumbed and began harmonizing myself 
with the prevailing sentiment, preparatory to its ac- 
ceptance. 

Although the dawn was bathing the room in gray 
the chanters kept on and on. It was no longer dreary 
monotony but the sweetest music I had ever heard. 
Tears of contrition, hot and blinding, came into my 
eyes as a link came down into my soul chaining me 
to the Infinite, unifying my will with the Great Will, 
as my soul in uplifting exultation, softened by humil- 
ity, lifted up its voice in unison with the chanters in 
words and sentiment; "Thy will, be done, O God, 
not mine." 

Slowly the chanting merged into a magnificent 
rendition — the most wonderful thing I have ever 
heard — thousands of voices singing as only spirit 
voices can to the accompaniment of the Choir invis- 
ible, in which my soul joined, a living, vibrating re- 
sponsive chord. 

Then came silence spreading wings of peaceful 



The Dead Are Alive 225 

calm over everything and although the day had come, 
the fringed curtains of my eyes came down, shutting 
out the light, and I passed into the unconsciousness 
which is one of the most beautiful provisions in the 
whole scheme of things. 



226 How I Know That 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

ATOMS OF LIFE UNIFYING WITH THE 
SOURCE OF LIFE. 

'I was awakened by the bringing of the breakfast 
tray and as it sat before me a voice said : 

"Eat nothing — drink nothing." 

"Oh, surely that tragedy is not to be reenactcd," I 
protested. 

"Just for today." 

Closing my eyes I sent the breakfast away saying : 

"I would rather sleep," and sleep I did until a 
voice came calling me into wakefulness with the in- 
junction : 

"Exercise today the privilege you accepted last 
night." 

My mind went back and reviewed all that had 
happened during the night. I seemed to live it all 
over again, analyzing it, repeating, "Thy will be 
done, O God, not mine." I realized that it did not 
mean the negation of your will or my will but the up- 
lifting of our consciousness into cooperative oneness 
with the Universal or God Will, of which our wills 
are an individualized manifestation. This for the 
reason that in the final analysis there is but one will, 
to which we are as drops of water to the sea, grains of 
sand to the land. Truly: 

"All are parts of one stupendous whole 

Whose body nature is and God the soul." 

Conscious co-operation or conscious oneness with 
the God Will can only be acquired by exercising and 



The Dead Are Alive 227 

strengthening what we recognize as our wills in an 
individualized way, with the consciousness of our 
unity with the God will, which will be powerful in- 
dividually only according to the strength we inject 
into it. First we must know we are right, on which 
point the ''still small voice" within will keep us ad- 
vised. Then armed with the golden rule and gen- 
erosity in everyday afifairs, let nothing swerve us from 
our real purposes. 

As the day wore on I seemed to live further and 
further away from the earth, so much so that its re- 
quirements grated on me and human voices seemed 
unnatural, loud and harsh, I therefore kept my eyes 
closed that the nurse might fancy me asleep and re- 
frain from speaking or disturbing me in any way. 
The deadness of my body weighed heavily upon me 
and I had the sensation of having something cold and 
heavy wrapped around me. When my hands closed 
they seemed to hold some foreign substance in them ; 
even sight grew dim, so dim that objects in the spirit 
world were more discernible than those in the room. 
Above all was the conviction that at last the time had 
come to close the book of my physical existence, not 
to be reopened during the present cycle of time and 
it mattered little one way or the other. I was just 
drifting, trying to keep in tune with the Infinite, 
bolstering myself up with the supplication ''Unify 
my soul with thy purpose, O God," feeling that if 
this "purpose" was for me to remain on earth I 
would, otherwise I would not. 

Not eating caused little comment, as I promised 
that while I did not feel like eating today I would 
tomorrow whether I felt like it or not. "Tomorrow 
— tomorrow never comes," kept reiterating itself un- 



228 How I Know That 

til it seemed I had already passed over the border- 
land and there was a tomorrow — the tomorrow of 
death — life everlasting. Thus a kind of semi-con- 
sciousness began playing its part in the drama and I 
was glad when 

"I saw night 

Digging the grave of day 
And day take off her golden crown 

And flung it sorrowfully down." 

Later I mechanically watched the nurse perform- 
ing her little ante-slumber duties, feeling that the 
same duties would not be required of her when night 
came again. Then she crept into bed noiselessly and 
was soon asleep and I was knocking at the door of 
the Silence from which no answer came. I knew, 
however, that I was not alone, as my soul felt that un- 
mistakable comfort of soul companionship and I just 
waited listlessly. 

When I was almost weary of waiting, weary of 
everything, I perceived Meon beside me and asked 
eagerly : 

"Oh, Meon, am I coming out tonight? I am so 
weary of earth." 

"Yes, come," he made answer and I almost jumped 
out of my body so eager was I to escape and I soon 
vibrated far out into the soft whiteness of the Space- 
World, happier and more carefree than I had ever 
been before. 

As I vibrated onward I noted the similarity of the 
vibrations to those of a moving train and asked : 

"Meon, did the vibrations of that moving train 
have anything to do with facilitating your first com- 
munication?" 



The Dead Are Alive 229 

''Yes, by throwing you en rapport with these vi- 
brations." 

''But I was not thinking of such things," I pro- 
tested. 

"Which still further facilitated matters." 
"I was reading, if you remember." 
"No; you were not reading — you were looking 
over the paper with your mentality open to receive 
the most unexpected intelligence, creating an ideal 
condition. I spoke — you heard." 

As we drifted far out, ever onward, I noted with 
interest great vibrating orbs of light and remember 
wondering if they were inhabited to which Meon 
vouchsafed the intelligence that they were and the 
desire was strong upon me to visit them. In a mo- 
ment, however, this impulse was blotted out by the 
beauty of the "scenery," as we vibrated onward 
through the cloud mountains of space, quivering 
within the electrified current as a part of it; colors 
mingled and intermingled suggesting rainbows bath- 
ing in a silvery sea — the silvery sea whose waves 
seemed propelling us and thousands of others ever 
onward toward a wonderful shore somewhere in a 
wonderful world. 

Almost abruptly we were upon a substantial white- 
ness which I instantly recognized as "The Power 
House of Existence." I realize it is a liberty on my 
part to presume to name this plane of existence as it 
doubtless has a name already, but as I designate it 
according to its functions, it would not interfere with 
its position as a numerical plane, which I am quite 
sure it is, as there are a number of planes or phases 
of life between it and the earth life. These planes 
however, so intricately interpenetrate that it 



230 How I Know That 

would take one better versed in the matter than I am 
to intelligently differentiate. So for convenience, we 
will just call it "the Power House" and let it go at 
that. 

Evidently we were expected, as many great spirits 
were waiting to greet and welcome us, after which 
they accompanied us into the wonderful electrified 
building in which we had gone when there before. 
Again I stood on the transparent floor, again felt its 
pulse beating in the same way, but saw nothing as I 
looked down into the void toward earth, which was 
as a closed door. I knew that my presence was not re- 
quired there and passed almost hurriedly up into the 
apartment where I looked upon the panorama of my 
earth life, where the shadow body had laid down at 
my feet and the light had gone out of it and disap- 
peared into the whiteness above. 

After mentally reviewing all that I had seen there 
I became oppressed, goaded, as it were, by the desire 
to go on, which became so irresistible that I looked 
at Meon for explanation, saying, half apologetically: 

"I want to go on." 

Instead of this being a discourtesy, as I half feared, 
it was received with great rejoicing and it was with 
the most elaborate ceremony that I was conducted 
into another part of what appeared to be the same 
suite, where I was greeted by the most ethereal, 
shadowy creatures that I had yet encountered, veri- 
table spirits of spirits, whose soft gentleness and lov- 
ing solicitude made their presence almost painful 
joy, while the very essence of soul music was coming 
from everywhere. In the center, surrounded by these 
beings was an opaline, couch-shaped cloud, kissed 
by amethyst and gold, and in obedience to my per- 



The Dead Are Alive 23 1 

captions, despite its unsubstantial appearance, I re- 
clined upon it. It was quite restfully reliable and 
its soft magnetic embrace very pleasing. If one can 
conceive of such a thing this couch gave the impres- 
sion of a cloud being held together and supported by 
electricity but it was quite sufficient for my body, 
which was as ethereal as my surroundings. Reclin- 
ing thereupon I wish I could adequately describe my 
sensations, as these wonderful creatures hovered 
about me, holding me in the magic of their presence, 
intensifying my desire to be like them. Then I was 
conscious of a change — an inner lightness and power, 
which grew into a feeling of independence of the 
shadow or spirit body, as though it were a part of the 
couch rather than myself, much as I had felt about 
the physical body before leaving the earth plane. 

Again the great electrified current manifested it- 
self, but this time with a quivering instead of vibrat- 
ing, taking me unto itself so gently that it was almost 
imperceptible. Souls of the superethereal realm 
were calling to me, calling into a world that is as far 
above the ethereal as the ethereal is above the physi- 
cal and I wanted to go. Then I could feel myself 
slipping, slipping over the borderland where the 
realm of God kisses the realm of Christ, to remain 
beyond which we must have become as Christs, as 
beyond it we begin the evolution toward the Ultimate 
— Godhood. 

Then I was looking down upon my spirit body 
much as I had done my mundane garment after leav- 
ing it upon the earth plane, and into the grandeur of 
it all came a voice saying: *^It is the second death," 
and as I wondered at the word '^death," the voice ex- 
plained: 



232 How I Know That 

"That word has no application to the soul — it ap- 
plies only to its garments as they are cast aside." 

There was something appealing about the little 
shadow body as it lay there in all its transparent 
whiteness amid its glistening environment — a strang- 
er in a strange land — what would become of it? Pos- 
sibly it was a gift of that plane just as the clay image 
is the gift of earth. Why was Meon sitting beside it 
— why had he not come with me? All this I was 
asking myself when suddenly I realized that I was 
a great power and began analyzing myself to see 
what constituted me and found there was no me — 
there was only /. Yes, I was consciously I, a greater 
Ego that I had ever been, yet I was only a little light 
within a misty white globe, one with and within the 
great electrified current, a veritable spirit of a spirit, 
a living atom of intellectual power — a power more 
wonderful than even my wildest dreams ever depict- 
ed. The living thing within was memory, an insig- 
nificant little impediment or otherwise in the earth 
life as we suppress it, or hold it fondly to our hearts 
crying out in anguish, "Oh, if I could only forget — 
if I could only forget." True, if we could only for- 
get we would leave the judge, the jury and the exe- 
cutioner this side of the Styx! Be that as it may, mem- 
ory is refined and purified and lays down its every 
burden before it passes into this realm, where sins, 
sorrows and shadows never violate. The soul is veri- 
tably stripped of every shadow, the process of which 
is not always a delightful diversion as we come up 
through the different strata of life from the earth to 
the "Power House," therefore, it is well for us to re- 
member that a burden placed on memory must go on 
a very long journey, perhaps several of them, before 



The Dead Are Alive 233 

the soul can free itself of it. Nothing we can do will 
keep the soul's tomorrow from coming but we can re- 
frain from placing upon tomorrow burdens of to- 
day. On the other hand it is possible, though rarely 
attained, to so live the earth life that we can pass al- 
most immediately beyond the condition through 
which I had just passed — the second death. 

It was an exceedingly blissful condition in which I 
found myself, a veritable dream of Heaven; and of 
all the places I had ever visited in the worlds of 
spirit this most appealed to me. I wanted to stay and 
settled down with the sensation of permanency 
among these souls reveling in their dreams of idealty. 
Many were entering in and strangest of all some 
seemed to be going back down through the 'Tower 
House." This going back reminded me of my ex- 
pressed desire in that direction and I became rest- 
less, with that ''going on" feeling and almost instant- 
ly I was quivering upward within the electrified cur- 
rent with something of a pang at leaving the wonder- 
ful "residential section" that had so appealed to me. 
As we ascended so refined became the uplifting pro- 
cess that it was more of a perception than a move- 
ment, just floating in a void of blended harmony, en- 
chantingly exhilarating. Feeling that I was soon to 
know the ultimate of a soul I began conjecturing as 
to its beginning. A voice, or rather a mental im- 
pression came softly out of the silence : 

"Every soul is as young as the youngest; every soul 
is as old as the oldest; all have existed since time be- 
gan." Where did the voice come from? Suddenly 
I realized that that which had been to me a great 
electrified current was in reality a great universal 
Spirit, interpenerating everything, uniting all 



234 How I Know That 

realms, lifting souls erer onward on the journey of 
evolution and progression — it was a living, intellec- 
tual, speaking entity, the great silent emissary of all 
power — the God spirit — a kind of universal thread 
on which all life is strung. 

I was not the only passenger within this living, 
electrified elevator, whose invisible silent power was 
limitless, world-embracing. There were other globe- 
confined lights moving about blazing with luminos- 
ity, with which I recognized myself as unified yet 
separate, but above all was the conviction that we 
would yet be one in a greater and more concrete 
sense by a process yet unrevealed. 

We passed through indescribable strata of »pace, 
wonderful beyond description but did not come in 
contact with any condition of life but went ever 
steadily onward, the uplifting process of which had 
become 

"Such a tide as, moving seems asleep 
Too full for sound and foam." 

Then a living whiteness, a veritable white fire of 
radiance was interpenetrating everything with a 
neutralizing effect, giving the impression of finality 
— the end. There was no sense of being overpowered 
but just a merging into Infinitude as it merged into 
me — as a dewdrop sinks into the sea and the sea into 
the dewdrop — just a unification. I was still con- 
sciously 7 in a most remarkable sense — I felt that /, 
myself, was Infinity — a thrill inexpressible! It was 
the end of the journey — coming home after the end- 
less ages of reincarnations, of battling through 
worlds material and ethereal, burning in the crucible 
of Evolution through the wearisome eons and cycles 
of time for the Ultimate — ^where evolution pours her 



The Dead Are Alive 235 

Gods — atoms of life unifying with the source of life. 

I could see the passengers, just little lights no 
longer encumbered by even the misty globes, losing 
themselves in the Power Radiance, becoming one 
with it. Suddenly I remembered the earth and my 
request to return to it but suspended as I was between 
the end and the beginning of the journey, I did not 
dare to hope that my desire to return to earth with a 
story of a ''far country" would be respected, as I had 
known so many in the spirit worlds with the same 
desire. Too late, we want to come back just for the 
good we may do but how few ever come back across 
the dark span! 

Then I could feel the mantle of Infinitude with- 
drawing itself, throwing me back, as it were, into the 
neutralized current, rendering me as negative as I 
had been a moment before positive, as a soundless 
voice, a mentalized wave floated into my conscious- 
ness: 

"Return thou unto earth chained to thy request." 

In an instant a change was over everything. I was 
quivering within the electrified current, moving out 
into the Whiteness, my face toward the earth. As I 
looked down I seemed to see it, to feel its magnetism. 
In fancy, I seemed to hear it calling me, to feel that 
it rejoiced that I was returning and a great joy was 
within me that the privilege was mine and as I came 
on down through the quivering, silvery whiteness, 
still tuned with the Infinite, nothing seemed impos- 
sible. How wonderful it all was then, but now re- 
duced to the small, material capacity of pen, ink and 
paper, I can only say — what havoc reality plays with 
our dreams! 

But I was still dreaming the wonderful dream 



236 How I Know That 

when there came a gentle pause, a slowing vibration 
and suspended I was looking down upon my shadow 
body just where I had left it, with Meon still beside 
it. All about me were those superethereal beings and 
just for a moment I relaxed, giving myself up to the 
restful joy of that realm that had so appealed to me 
and then slipped into my spirit body so easily that I 
marvelled. 

At first it seemed such a thing apart that it was op- 
pressive then I could feel myself giving it life and 
power, renewing its life in conjunction with mine. 
In a little while I arose from the couch with it as 
much a part of me as it had ever been. 

There was great rejoicing, as they all seemed to 
know where I had been and were pleased to regard 
me as a very exalted being instead of a poor/nundane 
creature on its way back to earth. Some questioned 
me as to the life in the world of the Ultimate, all of 
which I answered as well as I might. 

"But far on the deep there are billows 
That neyer shall break on the beach; 

And I have heard songs in the Silence 
That never shall float into speech 

And I have had dreams in the Valley 
Too lofty for language to reach." 

"Meon, did you know I was coming back?" I 
asked eagerly. 

"Yes." 

"Is it well that I have done so?" 

"That depends on yourself — it is a rare responsi- 
bility as well as privilege." 

My soul was caressing that thrill of Infinitude and 
the wonderful privilege and possibilities that were 



The Dead Are Alive 237 

mine, as we went down and stood once again on the 
transparent floor, felt that strange pulse beating sen- 
sation and then were going downward, floating out 
into space, accompanied by many great spirits, who 
rejoiced with us, lighting up our pathway by their 
self-illumination, singing in unison with the ^^choir 
invisible." My loved ones who are in the spirit 
world then joined us, all vibrating in joyous deli- 
rium, until a hand closed gently on mine and the 
voice of Meon was saying: 

"Come," to which I quickly responded remember- 
ing with compassion a fast deteriorating clay image 
in the darkness on the far away earth and hastened 
downward, creeping into the cold deadness of it. 



238 How I Know That 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

A SOUL RELINKING WITH EARTH. 

So unresponsive was the stiffening clay in which I 
was incarcerated that I feared my long absence had 
forefeited my dominance over it. I labored long and 
earnestly with the problem of readjustment, realizing 
the impotency of the spirit in a material executive 
sense without the co-operation of the body. I was so 
oppressively cramped that I had to combat the desire 
to just let go and return into the spirit world. 

"O, Thou who hast poured the essence of thy life 
Into this urn — this feeble urn of clay." 

Morning found me so indifferently adjusted that 
I feigned sleep until long after the breakfast hour, 
as I was far from being assured that I could speak, 
to say nothing of eating. When the nurse went out 
of the room and I was alone I tried my voice in a 
low tone, the squeaky sound of which struck me as 
being exceedingly comical and I laughed most heart- 
ily (noiselessly, of course). That laugh did more 
toward adjusting me than one could imagine. The 
blood began circulating with the sensation as of 
something crawling on me, it excelled all "flesh 
creeping" producers in the category of "creeping 
things," for the few seconds it lasted. I squirmed in 
the agony of it but when it was over I found that my 
soul and body were at least on living terms and I was 
much less oppressed. When the lunch hour came I 
spared myself any further comment on that subject 
by eating lightly, as my body had become fairly re- 



The Dead Are Alive 639 

sponsive and I was feeling unusually well consider- 
ing everything. 

As the day wore on I could not resist wandering 
back to the Ultimate — the fullness of Infinitude with 
which I still felt myself unified, the reflected glory 
of which seemed to make a reritable paradise of that 
little man-made room and all that was within it 
Truly the kingdom of Heaven was within mc, and 
I thought of the wonderful grain of truth, "I myself 
«m Heaven and Hell," that our beloved Omar had 
planted in his quaint philosophy that we all love and 
hold tenderly to our hearts yet dare not exemplify in 
oiir lives. 

When night had settled down and its shadows 
were flitting about mockingly I watched and waited, 
hoping against hope, the echo of the "good-bye," 
which I had heard the night before when I was leav- 
ing the spirit world haunting me with a meaning that 
I tried to shut out. I could not bear the thought 
that my pilgrimages into the spirit realms were over. 

"Meon, are you there?" I called and called again 
into the silence but no answer came, as tears welled 
up ever and anon to burn the dry, deadened lids. I 
knew I had been given back to earth but was loath to 
accept it, and grew resentful because of Meon's ab- 
sence, feeling that he should at least relieve my sus- 
pense by telling me the truth. His absence was really 
a verification of my worst apprehensions, as I knew 
if he did not come I would not go, as he had gone 
with me on every occasion of my going. 

"One, two," yes, it was two o'clock and while hope 
was slowly dying out I became aware of touches un- 
like any I had ever felt on my face and hands to 
which I paid little attention until they extended over 



240 How I Know That 

my entire body which until then had been practically 
insensible since the night of my first voyage upon the 
mystic sea of the silence. To have sensibility return 
after so long a time should have pleased but instead 
I could have cried aloud in the anguish of its recog- 
nized meaning. I had known the life of a spirit 
— had ridden on the wings of evolution to its finality 
and now to take up the burden of physical existence 
again seemed an impossible thing despite the fact 
that I had so ardently desired it. The dream and 
the reality 1 

This touching, as of fingers, continued, pressing 
upon me, growing ever more vigorous. I thought of 
the earth-magnetized spirits I had 'seen groping 
about in the spirit darkness and shuddered but my 
perception assured me that I had nothing to fear 
from these as they were not of the submerged type 
but beneficial in some indefinable way. But what 
were they doing — what did they mean? 

At last I perceived Meon and cried out to him : 

"Meon, what is this that keeps picking on me?" 

''You are in the hands of the healers and will soon 
be well." 

"Healers?" I echoed in astonishment, wondering 
that such seemingly material methods should be re- 
sorted to, and asked, 'Why could that not be done 
spiritually?" 

"Your body has fallen out of accommodation or 
co-operation with your spirit and practically become 
a material substance, therefore, is being treated as 
such in remagnetizing it." 

"Why could not / remagnetize it with spiritual 
co-operation?" 

"You could if you wanted to but you do not and 



The Dead Are Alive 241 

there is no time to be lost where it is concerned. These 
manipulations will persist until you turn your mind 
to the restoration of your body, which is, for the pres- 
ent, your home. The object of your indisposition is 
over and there is nothing to hinder your speedy re- 
covery." 

"Am I never to come out again?" I wailed des- 
pairingly. 

As I waited listening eagerly I seemed to hear that 
sentence that had so haunted me — "Weaver of thy 
freedom, be faithful," following in its wake came 
another, "Return thou unto earth chained to thy re- 
quest," and veritable I felt chained — hopelessly 
chained but after a few minutes of "kicking against 
the pricks," I reasoned with and coaxed myself into 
a resignation that I did not altogether feel. I reason- 
ed that I had been given what I most ardently de- 
sired and should be rejoicing instead of complaining, 
wondering at my own inconsistency. Thus began the 
relinking of a soul with a body from which it had 
been released in the pursuit of the brand of knowl- 
edge that St. Mark doubtless meant when he said, 
"There is nothing hid that shall not be manifested." 

As the days went on the "healers" worked with ad- 
mirable persistence and I could feel myself growing 
stronger and stronger, until I could recognize my 
body as a part of myself just as it had been before 
the separation came, "even as you and I" — just as 
any of us feel, for which I was sometimes glad — 
sometimes sorrowful, for it was not easy to tear one- 
self away from the lure of the "other side," so beau- 
tifully different. Yet the spirit world has its obli- 
gations and lessons just as the earth life and we can 
never get so far nor become so highly evolved that we 



242 How I Know That 

do not recognize the earth life as the greatest oppor- 
tunity of the soul and should use it accordingly in- 
stead of abusing it, as we too often do. 

Earth naturally exacts its obligations, its toll^ just 
as any plane does. At the same time we must con- 
sider its beautiful gifts, privileges and opportunities 
—^11 ours for the taking. It gives of itself t body in 
which to clothe our spirit, which body it maintains 
by the products of its industry. By the strong arm of 
its gravitation it holds us in safety to itself. Wc use 
its gifts of clay to do our bidding and according to 
such servitude our spirits progress and grow in 
strength^ usefulness and helpfulness, and, finally, 
when it has served our purposes we give it back with- 
out even a feeling of thankfulness or realization of 
the wonderful opportunities it has afforded our spir- 
its. Even where the spirit becomes the servant and 
the clay the master, earth is not to blame but rather 
the weakness of the spirit to be pitied. When earth 
life is lived in accordance with the laws and privi- 
leges governing it, other phases of life follow auto- 
matically and with as little friction as day follows 
night. 

To strengthen us, to force us into the mastery, earth 
permits us to burn in the caldrons of her temptations^ 
to fall over her precipices, always recognizing: 

*^Great souls must burn in sorrow's furnace heat ] 
Ere fully fitted life's great work to meet." 

Earth life is one of the strongest links in the great 
co-operative chain of evolution, and in the light of 
geological teachings and surmises, et cetera, who can 
say that our dear old mother earth is not, herself. 



The Dead Are Alive 243 

some great soul ploughing the heavy sea of evolution 
toward — what? 

So rapid was my improvement that within a few 
days I went, accompanied by my fiance and the nurse, 
for a drive on the beach. How vividly I recall every 
incident — someway it stands out alone — different 
from all other outings. I was lifted down the stairs 
and into the yard where the sunshine touched me for 
the first time in many long weeks — its heat 
was consuming. I went slowly, leaning heavily, my 
limbs so long unaccustomed to duty threatening to 
collapse at every step. When I sat down in the car 
it was like falling through space and ending in a 
crumpled heap, so completely did relaxation follow 
the exertion. 

How strange everything seemed as we went speed- 
ing out over the city! Houses, conveyances and 
people seemed so unreal that I realized I had been 
living in the spirit so long that the physical had be- 
come the unreal and the spirit the real. I could see 
the spirits more plainly than I could the human be- 
ings. As my acquaintances expressed their pleasure 
at my convalescence and chatted of the commonplaces 
their voices grated on me, so unreal and harsh com- 
pared with the soft vibrating voices of the space 
world, which are as soft as the silence and as caress- 
ing as love. 

Gradually this sense of unreality passed away. 
When we reached the Boulevard on the seawall level, 
high above the sea, I looked out over the broad 
expanse, where the gold of the setting sun kissed the 
blue of the sea. My old love for the sea welled up 
anew in my heart as I thought that all the beauty was 
not reserved for the worlds beyond ours. Watching 



244 How I Know That 

the smoke of an outgoing steamer, far out beyond 
the bar, and another ploughing heavily, coming in, 
I was struck with the realization that on earth, just 
as on other planes, life is very much a matter of com- 
ing and going — not so different after all. 

This drive having no ontoward results paved the 
way for a duplication every afternoon and a very 
long one on Sunday — to the very end of the island. 
After our return I could not disguise from myself 
that I was very tired, which being patent to every one 
was accepted as a natural consequence of the unusual 
exertion. 

There was one sentence that struck me forcibly, yet 
without any special meaning or conviction but I have 
recalled it often since. Just as we drove upon the 
sea wall facing the sun a voice cried out : 

''Look into the face of the Sun and you look into 
the face of God." 

It was not, however, until I was alone that I rea- 
lized how very tired I was and lay down without re- 
moving my clothes. Instead of resting there came 
upon me the perversity of unrest, rendering re- 
laxation impossible as I tossed and sighed in the dis- 
tress of it. Then Meon stood beside me and I im- 
plored him : 

"Oh, Meon, I am so tired I cannot rest here — do 
let me come out and float about in cool comfortable 
space and I will feel so different — please." 

''Rest where you are," came with gentle firmness, 
as a sense of finality pressed upon me — the full reali- 
zation that I had been given back to earth unreserv- 
edly, to which I would have protested perhaps but 
there was a pain, the very essence of pain, as of some- 
thing being withdrawn from my right side just below 



The Dead Are Alive 245 

the ribs in the identical spot where I had felt the 
thrust or impact the first night my soul was released 
and I went over the borderland. This excruciating 
pain — and it was the most acute I ever remember in 
all my life — spread over my entire body interpene- 
trating it, enveloping it, with an agony beyond en- 
durance, then gradually subsided, leaving only a 
soreness centralized in a small area in the side. After 
it subsided and I relaxed from the agony of it, there 
was upon me the sense of my soul and body having 
been locked together again — made one — an atom of 
infinitude and an image of clay. Following this al- 
most immediately was severe internal bleeding, the 
blood of which was dark, clotted and stagnant in ap- 
pearance, which forced me to remain for days with 
ice bottles on the affected side, keeping it in a frozen 
condition. Here is where the doctor and the nurse 
exercised their prerogative relentlessly, enforcing an 
invalidism that tried my patience to the utmost. Nor 
did the ^^healers" grow weary of 'Veil doing" — they 
persisted until I was in such a condition of physical 
supersensitiveness that anything touching my skin 
distressed it — especially those ice bottles. During 
these trying days the invisible forces did not desert 
me but instead hovered about with loving solicitude 
telling beautiful stories (and otherwise) of other 
worlds and their experiences therein. 

Of all the unreal things in this tangled web of un- 
reality, this connecting link, in a physical way, be- 
tween the release of my soul from the body and its 
final return, days later, is the most unreal — the most 
inexplicable. I even hesitate to embody it but as it 
is as much a link in this chain of mystery as any of 
the other incidents, I feel inclined to so respect it. 



246 How I Know That 

Then came a day, a beautiful summer's day, when 
I pulled myself away from the shadows of other 
worlds and took my place in the world of human af- 
fairs where I had left off more than two months be- 
fore, a consciously reincarnated being — the same and 
yet how different! 



The Dead Are Alive 247 

i, 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 
AS THE TODAYS BECAME YESTERDAYS. 

As people congratulated me on my return from the 
"valley of the shadow," I wondered what they would 
think if they knew just how far beyond the "valley" 
I had penetrated, and at times smiled bitterly as I 
realized with what incredulity such a statement 
would be received. 

This, however, did not alter my resolve to write 
and I began to wonder just how much had already 
been written on the subject and what information was 
available. This I determined to ascertain and avail 
myself of the reading thereof, feeling that if some 
one else had written frankly on such a subject it 
might lessen the full burden of criticism that I felt 
would descend on me for daring to stray so far from 
the "calf paths" made by the few minds who "belled" 
themselves for the herd to follow. Meon silenced all 
further conjecture by interrupting emphatically: 

"Read no line on this subject until you have writ- 
ten — then you will be free to read as you will." 

"Why?" I asked in surprise, wondering what dif- 
ference it could make, feeling assured that it could 
in no way affect me. 

"Writings are always clothed in the personality of 
the writer and errors of personality often uncon- 
sciously intrude themselves upon truth. The truths 
that have been given to you will tax your personality 
to the very utmost without seeking the errors of 
others that are already clad." 

While I resented this, in a way, I have abided by 



248 How I Know That 

it conscientiously and refrained from taking up any 
phase of the subject. Otherwise, possibly I would 
never have written as I have — taking, as it were, a 
naked truth and clothing it in words that fit in some 
places and misfit glaringly in others. However, the 
clothing of the ethereal in material form is rather 
a delicate process, the superlativeness of which only 
experience can demonstrate, as the ethereal must 
come down to the material — the material cannot be 
lifted up to it. 

As I grew stronger the invisible forces did not 
withdraw their interest but watched over me even 
more eagerly, permitting me to feel the pleasure of 
their solicitude, which did much to promote the 
restoration of my health and by the end of August 
I was practically well, despite a peculiar all-over 
weakness which spirit communication imposed upon 
me at times. 

Then my fiance became my husband, and the great 
wedding that was to have been, was conspicuous by 
its simplicity. A traveling dress of champagne-col- 
ored messaline made rather a pretty substitute for 
the magnificent pearl-bedecked creation that had 
so injected itself into that weird drama of the 
shadows. 

I was physically unequal to the Oriental tour we 
had planned and after remaining in New Orleans a 
few days stress of business called my husband back 
to Galveston, where we remained only a short time 
before launching our ship of business in other waters, 
where the tides of more than two years have ebbed 
and flowed with my resolution to write riding on the 
uncertain wave of "someday,"* with the sunshine of 
love blinding me to the universal law of duty. 



The Dead Are Alive 249 

"Yes, I will write it all some day," I would assure 
my accusing conscience (that "still small voice" 
within), while I "gloried and drank deep" at the 
Court of Procrastination, wearing the crown of Love, 
studded with jewels of contentment, while the days 
with their wonderful opportunities passed unheeded 
into the file of yesterdays. 

As I grew stronger I half feared my ability to com- 
municate with the world invisible would abate ac- 
cordingly but that rare privilege is still mine and my 
health was never so splendid in all my life. How- 
ever, it is a prerogative I rarely exercise but that it 
is mine to use when I elect lends a significance to life 
that nothing can take away and nothing else can give. 
Be that as it may, on the whole that experience is one 
I would not care to duplicate, nor obliterate, as dur- 
ing those days I lived consciously and intelligently in 
two worlds, as much in one as in the other, in neither 
and yet in both, drinking to the dregs the cup of 
agony as well as joy. 

It was at night when all the world was sleeping 
and "silence, that dreadful bell" was ringing som- 
brely that Meon and the great spirits would come 
and chide me with their mute reproaches. Respect- 
ing the law of self-responsibility they would not 
speak but my soul would cry out self-condemned in 
the agony of the unredeemed promise that I had laid 
upon it while in the world of shadows and I would 
renew my assurances, but when daylight came every- 
thing seemed so different that I just drifted with the 
difference — assuring myself that the world was not 
ready for such knowledge. And then there was my 
husband's attitude on the subject! 



250 How I Know That 

Finally the ghost of that unexecuted promise td 
which my soul seemed veritably chained, began 
haunting me both day and night, taking all the joy 
out of life, filling me with an unrest that nothing 
could dissipate, and my mind was ever reverting re- 
sponsively to Schiller's abjuration : "Why hast thou 
cast me thus into the town of the ever-blind to pro- 
claim thine oracle with the opened sense? Take back 
this clear-sightedness ; take from mine eyes this cruel 
light! Give me back my blindness — the happy dark- 
ness of my senses; take back thy dreadful giftl" 

Then came a spring night, cool with a touch of 
winter in it, the wind howled dismally and I tossed 
in the anguish of "murdered sleep." I could see the 
light burning in my husband's room and knew that 
he, too, was restless and reading, as is his custom 
when he cannot sleep. We had come in late from 
a box party at the theatre and I was miserably tired 
and sleepy but this did not matter to the invisibles 
who waited to administer their mute reproaches, 
which seemed more unbearable than ever before. I 
tried to shut them out with the same old promises, 
which they heeded not but just waited — waited in 
the stillness of the night as I lay in the torture of 
sleepless self-condemnation. 

Then from afar came soft strains of the "choir in- 
visible," and upon me was the awareness of little 
electric shocks. How well I remember them! Yes, 
there was the great electrified current coming down 
upon me, touching me, gathering me unto itself, just 
as it had done before. The horror seized me that it 
was death that had come, that I had forfeited the 
opportunity so ardently sought and my soul was cry- 



The Dead Are Alive 251 

ing out with the renewal of the promise it meant to 
redeem regardless of all things — everything. 

No spirit word was spoken — no sound broke the 
awesome stillness — I could feel myself clasped with- 
in the vibrations of the great electrified current mov- 
ing upward, going up bodily just as I had once be- 
fore; I could feel the covers slipping away as they 
fell back on the bed, hear the bells of my little dog's 
collar jingle as he hurried about excitedly, a be- 
numbing cold permeating everything. I was vi- 
brating slowly upward, up, up. One hand was rest- 
ing on my breast, the other hanging limply down, 
eyes closed, and a hopeless resignation pressing heav- 
ily upon me. Then came a pause and I apprehen- 
sively opened my eyes to behold a wondrous change. 
1 was staring into a white-canvas-like mist fringed 
by a nebulosity in which variegated colors played, 
the blue of electricity predominating. As in a mov- 
ing picture I saw myself on the train with Meon be- 
side me, just as on that May morning which seemed 
so long ago. Following this was a panorama of 
every incident in the weird, shadov^ drama in which 
Fate had sent me far wandering into the realm whose 
door is death. As I viewed it thus condensed, I rea- 
lized more forcibly than ever the intricately inti- 
mate relationship of the realms, visible and invisible, 
each a continuation of the other, each interpenetrat- 
ing and all interpenetrated by that great electrified 
current, making "one stupendous whole." When the 
wonderful moving scene, which so enthralled me, 
came to the relinking of the soul with earth I could 
feel myself being lowered, vibrating downward, my 
eyes fastened on the slowly fading scene until the 



252 How I Know That 

clouds broke into rolling confusion and there came 
into the shadowy mist, in letters of gold, these words : 

'^'Twas not given for you alone 
Pass it on; Pass it on." 

The End. 



Since writing the foregoing I have come to the 
conclusion that Agassiz was not very far wrong when 
he said : 

"Every great scientific truth goes through three 
stages. First people say it conflicts with the Bible. 
Next they say it has been discovered before. Lastly 
they say they have always believed it." 

For the convenience of those who may be thus in- 
fluenced I submit the following Bible references cov- 
ering different phases of spirit manifestation : 

INDEPENDENT SPIRIT VOICES. 

Matthew, iii, 16, 17 Matthew, xvii, 5 John, xii, 28, 29, 30 

Ezekiel, i, 28 Mark, ix, 7 I Sam., iii, 3, 9 

Acts, xi, 7, 8, 9 Deut., ix, 12, 13 Acts, ix, 4-7 

Job, iv, 1-6 

SPIRIT LEVITATION. 

II Kings, ii, 9, 10, 11 I Kings, xviii, 12 Ezekiel, viii, 3 

Acts, viii, 39 Ezekiel, iii, 12, 13, 14 

SPIRIT COMMUNICATIONS IN DREAMS. 

Job, xxxiii, 15 Joel, ii, 28 Genesis, xxxi, 11 

Genesis, xxxvii, 5 Genesis, xxviii, 12 

SPIRIT CONTROL OR INFLUENCE. 

Numbers, xxiv, 4 Acts, ix, 3, 9 Daniel, viii, 18 

Daniel, x, 9 Genesis, xv, 12, 17 I Kings, xiv, 5 

Acts, X, 10, II Acts, xxii, 17 

MATERIALIZATION. 

Matthew, xvii, i, 9 Job, iv, 15 Ezekiel, ii, 9 

Genesis, xviii, i Exodus, xxiv, 10, 11 Mark, ix, 4 

Luke, xxiv, 15, 16, 29, John, xx, 19, 20 Genesis, iii, 8 

30, 31 Genesis, xxxii, 24 Daniel, v, 5 



The Dead Are Alive 253 

WRITING. 

II Chron., xxi, 12 Exodus, xxxiv, i lExodus, xxxi, 18 

Exodus, xxxii, 16 Exodus, xxiv, 12 Duet., ix, 10 

Daniel, v, 5 Duet., v, 22 

TESTS. 

Matt, xxvii, 51, 52, 53 Judges, vi, 36, 40 I Sam., i, 10, 11, 17, 

Genesis, xxiv, 14, 19 I Sam., x, 2, 10 26, 27, 28 

Job, iv, 15, 16, 17 

"For He is not a God of the dead but of the living; for all live 
unto Him." — Luke, xx, 38. 

"Concerning spiritual gifts brethren I would not have you ignorant." 
— I Cor., xii, I. 

Also I find many who are influenced by what 
others think, and grade the subject accordingly. Such 
persons may be as much surprised as I was to find 
that a very long list of our foremost writers, teachers, 
thinkers, scientists and philosophers (past and pres- 
ent) are not only liberal where spirit phenomena is 
concerned but have written openly admitting that 
there is something in it, notable among whom are 
two of the world's greatest scientists, Sir Oliver 
Lodge and Sir William Crookes. 










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